Philippine Fishing Village from Jesse Gardner
Tired, hot and halfway to lost, the missionary drove down a dusty dirt road into a fishing village that appeared on no map.
A mangy dog barked. A few locals eyed the stranger from their shacks. The sun sank toward a red horizon.
"This is a dead end," the missionary told himself nervously. He was a rookie. It was one of his first trips into the Philippine countryside on his own. Anywhere else seemed more promising for ministry than this, and he intended to get there as soon as possible.
He turned his pickup truck around. Just before he mashed the gas pedal, he heard a voice: "I want you to stop right here."
No audible voice. God's voice? The missionary pulled over -- under protest.
"I'll walk around for five minutes," he muttered. "Then I'm outta here."
He saw no one outside -- just more dogs that followed him, growling with a distinct lack of hospitality. He forced himself to stroll through the village, almost hoping he wouldn't find anyone. Turning one last corner before scurrying back to the truck, he encountered a group of fishermen mending their nets. He approached them.
"I'm a missionary," he said, struggling to make himself understood with his beginner language skills. "Could you guys tell me if there's someplace around here where I could tell people about Jesus?"
The fishermen looked at each other. "Why not here?" one of them replied.
That village eventually became home to a church, which went on to start three more churches, which in turn started others.
Funny how God works while you're on the way to someplace else.
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