December 20, 2025
Thank you for following along on our missionary journey to Papua New Guinea. I will share a weekly update as opportunities allow. As they often say about Papua New Guinea, expect the unexpected—a phrase we are already learning to appreciate in new ways.
On December 13, 2025, my family and I said our final goodbyes to family and friends and boarded a plane from Knoxville, Tennessee, bound for Mt. Hagen, Papua New Guinea. It will be the last time we see them face to face until we return on furlough in two years. The moment was bittersweet, yet filled with peace as we looked ahead. As the Apostle Paul wrote, “Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13–14, KJV).
Our flights went smoothly, and we spent the night in Brisbane, Australia. The following day, we took buses and trains to visit a koala and kangaroo exhibit. Destany especially enjoyed watching the koalas nap while lazily chewing eucalyptus leaves. Seeing kangaroos hopping about—with a joey peeking its head out of its mother’s pouch—was something we will not soon forget.
The next day, we returned to the airport, where we met Mr. and Mrs. Seremack, the parents of Missionary Kenny Seremack, who also serves in Mt. Hagen. We spoke several times during our wait, and they were a pleasure to get to know.
This is where we truly began to “expect the unexpected.” Theresa, Destany, and I joined the long line of travelers checking in for our Air Niugini flight to Port Moresby. Each of us carried two overflowing carry-ons, along with six large totes weighing 66 pounds apiece. These totes held everything we would need—and some things we only thought we would need—for the next two years. We were prepared to pay nearly $2,000 in excess baggage fees.
Surprisingly, because of the amount of luggage we had, it was cheaper to upgrade our tickets to business class for a small fee. Doing so significantly reduced the luggage charges, so we upgraded. At the counter, the agent smiled and said, “Okay, you’re good to go.” Theresa asked if we owed anything. He replied, “Nope, you’re good to go.”
Completely perplexed, we moved through security and toward our gate, wondering how such a cost could simply disappear. Sometimes the unexpected turns out to be a pleasant surprise.
Our flight was delayed six hours, but once we boarded the plane from Brisbane to Port Moresby, I found myself seated in the very front middle seat of business class. Theresa was slightly behind me to the left, with Destany beside her. Behind us sat a full plane of people heading to Papua New Guinea. In that moment, the Lord impressed something deeply upon my heart. It wasn’t about enjoying the “finer things” in life—we were heading to a third-world country. Instead, He reminded me of why we were going: to serve the people of Papua New Guinea, to lead many to Christ for salvation and discipleship—not lording over God’s people, but walking with them as one body in Christ, where there is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female, but all are one.
The Lord had taught me this same lesson six months earlier while I was in a PNG village distributing John/Romans booklets. I stood head and shoulders above dozens of children and young adults, many of whom had never seen a white man. They followed me through the village, wide-eyed and curious. Many New Guineans hold white Americans in high regard because of perceived education and wealth. Most do not attend school, and those who do often receive the equivalent of a fifth- or sixth-grade education. The average employed New Guinean earns roughly $2,000 to $3,000 a year.
In that village, the Lord spoke clearly to my heart. These people do not need someone to come and lord intellect or possessions over them. They need someone to walk beside them, guide them to Christ, and lead them as a big brother in the faith.
When we arrived in Port Moresby, we missed our connection. Air Niugini arranged a shuttle to a small bed and breakfast in Boroka called Raintree Lodge. The next day, we returned to the airport, only to wait nearly all day due to another delay that ultimately ended in cancellation.
While waiting outside the terminal, my family and I sat on the ground. There, I met a young national named Eugene and spoke with him about the Lord. He said he believed in Jesus but also believed he had to be a good person to get to heaven. In that moment, the Lord worked in his heart, and Eugene trusted Christ as his Saviour. He said he knew he would go to heaven because Jesus paid for all his sins, and he felt great joy in his heart.
Missionary Chad Wells once told me—and it’s a common saying in PNG—that it isn’t what happens to you, but how you respond. I am learning this lesson firsthand. When things don’t go as planned, we must look for what the Lord is doing.
Eventually, the plane to Mt. Hagen arrived—only to be canceled once again after we stood in line, tired, weary, and beginning to smell a bit funny. A crowd rushed customer service, and I quickly learned that structured queues are not a New Guinean custom. As people slipped in from every direction, I was repeatedly pushed to the back.
Finally, a seasoned Air Niugini employee approached Theresa, took our boarding passes, and escorted us out of the crowd and onto a bus headed for the Holiday Inn. Our six heavy totes remained somewhere in baggage claim, but we were assured they would be safe.
On the bus, Destany struck up conversations with several young men, sharing her story—from her adoption to attending Christian school and moving to Mt. Hagen. She connected with a 22-year-old Mormon missionary named Mr. Kuno.
That evening, I invited Mr. Kuno to join us for dinner so I could share the gospel with him. I explained that salvation is the gift of God—by grace through faith, not of works. The Lord clearly worked in his heart, and he expressed trust in the finished work of Christ alone.
The hotel room itself was unpleasant, with the smell of cigarette smoke, stained walls, and puddles on the floor—possibly from buai, a common local drug. Exhausted, we slept and returned to the airport early the next morning.
At last, we boarded our flight and arrived in Mt. Hagen, where we were warmly welcomed by the Wells family. They helped us with our bags, took us to lunch, and brought us to the Mt. Hagen Missionary Home. A handmade sign on the gate read, “Welcome to the Mt. Hagen Missionary Home,” with flowers and petals lining the entrance. It was incredibly touching.
The Wells family stayed for a few nights in the flat across the hall, and it was a great blessing to have that time together. We enjoyed shared dinners, sweet fellowship, and many ministry discussions. During their stay, Trevor Wells trained me in my new role as the manager of the Mt. Hagen Missionary Home. I was quickly introduced to a whole new world of responsibilities I had never encountered before. I received a crash course in important email correspondence, QuickBooks, Excel, employee personnel files, supply checklists—you get the idea.
Connor Wells was also brave enough to give me driving lessons. Now, you might be thinking that driving is no big deal; however, try driving on the left side of the road, in a city with few road signs, heavy foot traffic, and the added reality that striking a pedestrian may—or may not—result in a tribal war. I digress!
After a few days of driving around town to run errands, Connor took me to get my driver’s license. Surprisingly, the process was relatively painless. I simply told them I knew how to drive, presented my Tennessee driver’s license, provided the post office box I will be using, had my picture taken, and just like that—it was official. I now have a Papua New Guinea driver’s license.
Soon after, the Wells family departed for the mission station in Pangia, about three hours away, and we were officially left to “make it happen.”
That evening, we unpacked and dedicated Flat A—our new home—to the Lord and His service. As our first week came to a close, I sat in the mission lobby and asked a receptionist to help me learn Tok Pisin. That simple language lesson turned into another gospel conversation, and once again, the Lord showed Himself faithful.
I asked him why God should let him into heaven. He replied simply, “Jesus died to pay for my sins. That is enough.”
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