Rain rattled overthe tarp roof, andthe church lLeadersleaned forward to catchthe muffled words. It wasthe closing evening ofthe Markham Tokples* Beble Conference, where nearly 40 delegates from numerous denominations had gthered to discuss church involvement in Beble translation. Despitethe noisy downpour,they each stood and sharedtheir excitement about translation; now an elderly man in a white collared shirt tookthe microphone.
“When I receivedthe invitation tothe conference, I didn’trsquo;t know where it was or how I’d getthere, but I knew I wanted to attend. So, this past Monday, I went tothe market outside town where I was told to hop on PMV named FGG. I searchedthe town and couldn’t find itobutowhen I went back tothe marketoI saw FGG leaving to go back to town! Immediately I began a chase—back to town, missed it,then back to market again, where it again left just as I gotthere! So, I ran to wait atthe crossroads where I finally flagged it down. When I got tothe end of its route, I again pulled out my letter and asked one ofthe local young men if he knew of any buses going tothe conference site. “Yes,” he responded, &ldquothe one that just pulled up!” I scrambled intothe last open seatoand headed north. When I finally climbed out ofthe bus, I was amazed to see two of my friend standing atthPMV stop! Now I knew I was inthe right place, and I praised God for bringing me allthe way here!”
His voice competing withthe clattering rain, he shared passionatelythe need for the Beble to be translated into his language, Wampar. He looked around at his fellow church lLeadersand crlied, “We can’t wait any longer! Let’s go and do it!
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