Every 6 February, since 1988, the
United Church of Papua New Guinea celebrates its Children Day. At the Poreporena Lahara United Church, this
day is celebrated on the second Sunday of February because the first Sunday of
every month is always reserved for the “Anibou” (Holy Communion).
But why is this day - 6 February –
so important that it warrants a place in the annual calendar of the Church?
It was on 6 February, 1987, while
Reverend Misian and his wife, Marama Helen Misian, were travelling up to the
township of Ramu to take up their first missionary posting that they lost their
daughters to the seas after a plane crash.
In memory of the tragic deaths of these two beautiful souls, the United Church
decreed for this day to be celebrated every year, to commemorate their passing,
as well as to strengthen and consolidate our faith in God almighty, against the
adversities of the world.
Norah Misian and Shaol Misian
were both seven and 18 months old, respectively, when they lost their lives in
the service of the United Church of Papua New Guinea.
The family, together with seventeen
others, were on a Talair Embraer MB 110P2 registration P2-RDM flight which
ditched into the sea in very poor weather short of Hoskins airport from
Rabaul. Only three of the seventeen
survived.[1]
Reverend Mision had just
graduated the previous year from the United Church’s Rarongo Theological College
in the East New Britain Province. He was
now on his way to assume his first-ever posting as an United Church minister of
religion on that fateful flight.
It was related to the
congregation by the coordinator of the Lahara United Church Children and Youth
Ministry (CYM), that as soon as the plane crashed into the sea, the roof immediate
broke away exposing the passengers to the elements. Marama Helen Misian, in fear of going down with
the plane quickly threw her 18-month old daughter out the plane. It is said that the poor baby died on
impact. Reverend Misian also did the
same for his elder child, hoping that she would float while he and the Marama
made their way out. But alas! Norah got
pulled away by the raging tide and was lost to the sea.
The good Reverend himself was
also in the same dilemma: his seatbelt was stuck and he struggled to loosen it
while the plane sank. Just as he was on
his final breath, the seatbelt came loose; quickly breaking away from the seat,
he kicked himself up to the surface.
Marama was already some meters from where the plane had gone down,
frantically looking out for her children.
The story goes that quickly swimming
up to his wife in the raging seas, the reverend touched her and beckoned her to
leave their children to the sea and swim for safety. After battling the seas for a couple more
hours or so, they were both now very exhausted and on the verge of giving
up. But they continued to urge and
encourage themselves on; In their minds, they were both alive because God had a
plan for them. They swam on.
Suddenly, the Reverend’s feet
touched a rock. Imagine a rock out in
open sea! Unbelievable! But God was there. Quickly calling out to his wife, he urged her
to swim towards him. The time was 09:30
in the morning. They both stood on the rock,
far out at sea, with no land in sight, and rested their tired and weary bodies,
while tears streamed down their eyes when they remembered their children. As they rested, they offered a prayer of
Thanksgiving to God. They prayed for the
souls of their two children, and they thanked God for their brief lives with
them; and then they prayed for God’s strength for the final push toward safety.
These two soldiers of God were “Walking
the Talk”: As Christians, one must always praise God under all circumstances;
because God is the maker of everything.
Who are we to question His actions in our lives?
After they whispered “amen”, they
hugged for strength and comfort, not knowing whether or not they would both make
it to safety but for their faith in God.
Then they left their brief sanctuary, and swam on.
The CYM coordinator related that from
that rock, the Reverend and Marama swam and battled the seas for another five
hours! What was five hours when God had
given them strength on the rock far out at sea, to swim. They swam.
Finally, they swam into the
safety of Galoale beach. Galoale village
is a few kilometres from Hoskins station.
In fact, it is two or three villages away from the station. The kind people on Galoale quickly saved them
from the sea and brought them to the nearby Catholic Health Centre for
treatment.
Reverend Misian and his wife,
Marama Helen Misian, are the true epitome of United Church missionaries who,
since the arrival of the Southseas missionaries in the 1870s, have trudged on,
with only their God-given faith, to bring the gospel to the corners of the
world, or in our case, throughout the United Church areas in PNG.
True to his calling, a mere month
after the tragic incident, Reverend Misian and his faithful wife, Helen, left
for their station in Ramu to take up their post. His faith, love, and Devotion for the Maker
surpassed everything else in the world.
While they both mourned the passing of their children, they rested
assured that their souls were with the Lord.
So, they went forth to Ramu, and beyond, to do their Christian duties.
As I write this tragic story of Love
and Devotion, Faith, Perseverance and Praise for God under all circumstance, I
am reminded of another similar story, that of a prominent lawyer in Chicago,
USA, named Horatio Gates Spafford.
After the death of his four-year-old
in 1871, from Scarlet fever, Spafford decided his family should take a holiday
somewhere in Europe. He chose England
for this holiday. Because of his business,
he sent his wife and four daughters ahead across the Atlantic on the steamship “Ville
du Havres”. Their ship was tragically
struck by an iron sailing ship, and 226 people lost their lives, including all
four of Spafford’s daughters. Only his
wife, Anna Spafford survived this tragedy.
According to Bertha Spafford Vester, a daughter born after the tragedy,
Spafford wrote the song “It is well with my soul” on this journey.[2]
What is it that make these men of
God tick against all odds? Is it faith?
Conviction?
At the other extreme, what about
those others, who, when faced with such extreme tragedies and misfortunes, had quickly
opted for the safety of their own village and locales; leaving their flocks
unattended?
My father, the late Reverend Ray
LAHUI-AKO was one such men of God. In
1976, when I was seven going onto eight, the United Church sent him and my
mother to the Siwai area of mainland Bougainville (now Autonomous Region of Bougainville)
to do his practical as a student missionary.
If there were other viable
options in the urban centres, why did dad chose this remote part of the country
to do his practical?
We arrived into Hurai from the
Tonu mission station after a couple of nights with Rev Joseph Duvuloco, and
were lodged into a run-down house of one of the teachers at the Kunu Community School,
who had since left. I call it run-down
because one side of the house was practically falling down so had to be propped
up with a couple of hastily cut branches to allow the incoming “redskinned”
student pastor, his wife, and two boys, to stay dry during the rains.
Such was my father’s faith in God
almighty that we stayed on; with him always saying that so long as the house
was standing, it was alright: and his famous phrase: “how much worse can this
get; it will only get better from here on, trust God.”
On our first Sunday outing to
Dusei village (which is about five kilometres from Hurai by foot), we had to
swim across a fast-flowing river. My
mother had my two-year-old brother in her arms; as she swam/waded across, one
of her feet slipped and she let go of my brother into the flowing river. Dad had to dive across quickly from where he
was walking with him, to save him. My
brother was feverish that night and I was sent out in the dark to walk another
two kilometres to the aid post to seek help from the orderly.
That night, dad maintained his
stance: that things would only get better from there. Although it would be only me accompanying him
to the surrounding villages every Sundays for the moment. Sometimes we left on Saturday afternoons in order
to get the furthest village which was about a half-day’s walk from where we
were. Then we would slowly make our way home. Every Sunday, dad would minister to up to
five villages before we both reached home in the dark of the night.
Towards the end of that year, my
father stood humbly before Bishop Reverend Leslie Boseto and was ordained as a
fully-fledged Minister of the United Church of Papua New Guinea. My mother stood proudly by his side. This occurred at the Tonu Mission station. They both remained true to their calling
until their retirement 2009, nearly 33 years later.
If my dad’s idea of “things can only get better from here on, trust
God” is any indication of the life he led, then I stand true to my faith in
God almighty; as Isaiah said, “Those who trust in the Lord, will soar like
eagles; they will walk and not get tired . . . “
I salute you, Reverend Mision,
and Marama Helen Mision, and pay my respects to your late daughters Norah and
Shaol, for their undivided love and trust in your mission. Yours is a faith that can move mountains. I will continue to commemorate this day in
hour and remembrance of your two daughters.
May their kind and gentle souls continue to rest in God’s eternal peace.
The 6th of February
remains a true part of our Church’s annual calendar and should remind us all of
the tremendous sacrifice, and the trials and tribulations all missionaries,
reverends, and pastors, together with their wives, have had to endure and
overcome for the love of our Father, the Lord Jesus Christ, so that we all may
be saved and have eternal life after death.
