April 18, 2019
Yesterday was precious. It was Bible presentation day in literacy class. Since we finished stage one and they know all the letters now, we give out Pidgin Bibles so they can start reading them. (It’s a great tradition to inherit from the literacy teachers who developed this program.)
We’ve been talking about it for, well, since the beginning of class. I expected it to be a special day. However, I did not anticipate the depth of emotion this day would bring.
Class began as usual. We took roll and prayed. Then, Noni and I stood on opposite sides of the podium to congratulate and shake hands with each student. They would walk by us, then Pastor would receive each one with excitement, presenting the New Testaments.
We called the first name. Amon. He walked forward, shook my hand, turned to Noni, shook her hand, and then stepped toward Pastor Ben. My eyes filled, and so did theirs. Pastor hugged him with vigor, and then handed him the Word. Amon sat down, clutching the Scriptures with both hands. Tears coursed down his face, and his shoulders shook with every silent sob.
The realization was overwhelming. Amon is a father, a husband, a deacon. Until now, he has never been able to read the words of God for himself. For his own discipleship, his family’s, and the church’s, this is a moment bursting with significance.
Next came Amon’s son, Leten. The contrast was striking. This little boy, today hugging his pastor around the waist, will grow up knowing how to read, with the Word in his hands.
By this point, half the class was no longer watching the proceedings. Faces were buried in folded arms. The usual shuffling and murmuring audio backdrop had ceased. The only sounds heard were high-pitched moans and muffled sobs.
We called one name after another. Young women, mothers, and grandmothers hugged my neck, weeping and smearing snot on my shoulder and in my hair. I didn’t mind.
Sober handshakes followed as Pastor gave each one a Bible, and they returned to their seats.
Timoti (affectionately dubbed “Pops”) and Satina are working through literacy class for their second time. Learning to read is unimaginably difficult for adults in a pre-literate society, yet their desire surmounts the struggles.
Satina didn’t respond the first time we called her name. She hid her face and wept. We kept going, to try again after a few others. The second time she heard her name, she stood and came forward slowly. I hope that reading is the same for her. In this second time through class, I pray she comes forward slowly and learns to read.
Since I was ten years old, reading biographies and translators’ stories, I have dreamed about a day when I could hand someone the Scriptures I helped to translate for them. This day felt like a small taste of what that may be like. Yes, this Bible was translated years ago by someone else, but these people in this class have never had access to it for themselves. Since learning to read, now they do. Teaching them to read opens the world of the Word for them.
Their tears flowed from tender hearts. Their pastor teaches the Word so faithfully, they have learned to long after it. And now they have it, outside the church gathering, in their hands and in their homes. (Yet another day is coming, when they will have it in their heart language…)
The chance to join in this work is a priceless gift.
What about you? Do you treasure God in His Word? The ability to read is a gift. May we revel in the Book, exploring with joy the world of the Word.
Nov. 24 P.S. – By God’s grace, Satina did learn to read.