NTM - New Tribes Mission | Planting Tribal Churches

Hebrews 3:4,”For every house is built by someone, but He who builds all things is God.”

In the year 1947, six weeks after I was born March 24th my mother and father moved us into this little cabin shown in the picture. My mother says the little cabin was standing as long as she can remember but neither she nor I know who built the house. Although I never found the builder of the little two room cabin I did find God, the builder of all things. He saved me and placed me into this ministry that has given me joy for over 38 years.

It seems this little cabin has been so much a part of my life over the years as it set so proudly along the road right next door to the little white church that was a place for us to worship for many years. A lot of my early years were spent in and around this cabin even though we lived there for only my first year. Having other family members living there after we moved out opened the door for me to enjoy the apple trees with their sweet rewards and the beautiful view of the lake and mountains that seemed to wrap around you as you set in the shade of the old oak near the cabin.

I am not sure what draws me to this place but February 2012 while home from Papua New Guinea for some medical checkups I find myself back at the cabin again letting memories go wild. The cabin is not what she once was even though there was never much splendor to brag about. The cabin still stands for what it was designed, a shelter from the rain and cold and though windows are broken and rotten logs stoop here and there one can still feel strength coming from within those walls.

Walking around the cabin I see what makes this little place special to me; it is the view of the mountains and the lake that was so much part of my early years becoming a man. It is winter but I can almost smell the blooms from the apple trees in the small orchard and the honey suckle vines that grew wild here and there when Spring would come giving freshness to the morning dew.

Now, I realize what pulls me to this place after so many years; this is a picture of me. Like the little cabin I am not much to look at and my two rooms have very little to offer in this high speed world. It is the view and sweet smell of fellowship I want you to see and feel as you sit at my door looking at Jesus high and lifted up, the author and finisher of our faith. This old cabin reminds me to that this old world is not my home; I am just passing through to the regions beyond and the fields that are white unto harvest. Set with me, enjoy the view and hear the Master say, “Go ye therefore and make disciples of all nations.” Until the job is done may we move forward?

Do you ever wonder what the early Christians where talking about when they got together and celebrated the day our Lord was resurrected? I can imagine the two that walked the Emmaus road retelling again and again how their hearts burned with in them as He opened the scriptures to them. As they saw the nail print scars in His hands when He broke the bread and the scars burned on their hearts as He open the Word to them would always be a reminder of what happen that night long ago.

I to remember the time my heart burned as I saw God open the eyes of men that had been blinded by darkness for many years. Go back with me 30 years; walk up a small hill along a beautiful little river in the mountains of Papua New Guinea and have a seat with a group that are hearing the gospel for the first time. Our two Bible teachers George and Bob put the final touches on the gospel story as the sun begins to break through the morning fog. As they teach we all help in this final story by acting out what was taking place at Calvary that morning years ago.

When I, acting the Roman guard kicked and beat Bob who was acting the part of Jesus the people were very disappointed and could not believe what was taking place, their hero was being mistreated. After all the weeks of teaching showing all Jesus had done made it hard for them to believe what was taking place before them. As we spat on Him and hung Him on the cross I could see tears come to some of their eyes.

Before we removed Him from the cross we acted out the part of the Roman soldier piecing the side of Jesus with a spear, when they saw the blood in the form of colored water some began putting two and two together, all the weeks of teaching was beginning to come alive. But it was not until the make shift grave opened and they saw Jesus standing alive that things began to happen.

The oldest man in the village was one of the first to speak up, “I believe” he said and from there it began as more and more people saw Jesus resurrected by faith and became believers. Something was burned into my heart that day anew as well. Satan cannot keep these people hid in spiritual darkness forever because God is sending more men and women to the harvest fields that are ripe unto harvest. He said, “You shall be witnesses to me in Jerusalem, and all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” To this end I know God has called me into His service and with His grace I will forever more keep moving forward.

I am excited as I watch so many new people from different places around PNG coming to Jesus and watching them grow to the point of going out on their own with the gospel message. The message that Jesus is alive and will save those that call upon Him. It is amazing what God’s people will do when by faith they see the Son of God high and lifted up. Yes, without the resurrection and Jesus setting at God’s right hand, we would have no message of good news to preach. May your heart burn as you recall again what Jesus has done for you and may you feel the warmth of the Holy Spirit comforting your soul.

Sitting in a bush church building preparing to take communion my eyes were drawn to a man on my right. I had spent most of the morning walking with him along the river where these men and women call home. Now, as my son began to prepare them for communion I noticed his hands wrapped tightly around a little black wooden cup. As I let my eyes drift among the other 300 people waiting for the bread and juice they too had their own cups.

“Do this in remembrance of me”, Jesus said to the 12 that night long ago, and I thought how could they not remember walking and talking with Jesus those three years. “Do this in remembers of Me”, I heard Bill say as he and the other leaders began breaking bread and serving the juice. Now, I thought, they can remember Jesus because the light of the gospel has been delivered to them and they have stepped from darkness to light. From Genesis to Revelations they have been taught the truth of God’s Word.

I have preached and broke bread in Churches from Northern Canada to Southern Tasmania Australia, but as I look at those hands holding that old cup I realize this is the best it gets. “Remember Me” He said and here in the middle of the PNG jungle a man clings to the small black cup waiting to worship Jesus as he drinks the juice that represents the blood that set him free. If a man is saved how can he not remember what God has done, and how can I not remember you who are faithful to give and pray that Janie and I can be a small part of God’s work in PNG. Jack Housley

Over the years I have been able to fly with some of the best missionary pilots in and out of the jungles in different places around the world. Men that have made mission work much easier by putting their lives on the line each day to get the gospel into the hearts of unreached people groups. Some of these men have died, working through bad weather and other dangers pilots face on the mission field. Today February 18th I was able to fly with my grandson and share his dreams of becoming a missionary pilot in the coming years. Would you please pray for our Flight Program, we will have many trials in the coming days? Our pilots face the possibility of death with each flight but they with the missionaries they serve give live to the tribal people as they preach the gospel in those hard far out places. What a joy for me to share in my grandson’s dreams of being a mission pilot and taking my passion for preaching the gospel deeper into the unreached groups around the world. Our mission pilots are special, they not only fly planes in and out of very hard places they live a life that encourages young men to follow them as they walk with the Lord. I have watched our pilots sweat it out in bad weather getting us safely home. I have also watched them wipe away a tear as they unload another tribal person in a black bag that has died in the hospital in town. Now, as I watch my grandson prepare for the future I take my hat off to you my missionary pilot friend and thank you for being a hero that these young men need. Thank you for being so much more than just someone who flies a plane. Jack Housley

“If I could see I would help you,” he said as I went about working on the bush house we were building for the Ron Johnston family along a little wild river in PNG. That took place in 1977, many years ago but that voice and the vision of the young blind man still linger in my mind today. I think this is what keeps me motivated in this ministry of reaching out with the gospel. I can see and God has allowed me to see many things that feeds my soul and moves my heart to action.

At times, as I lay in bed late at night I feel like I am watching a movie as God brings memories from the past. A 12 year old boy I held in my arms plays before my mind often. Janie and I were living in a small village in the early days, just getting started in the work we dreamed about for years. The vision I have today seems so real, I can almost smell the drying skin burnt from the hot fever and feel the lifeless bones as his spirit leaves him for the unknown.

‘Leave him alone,” his family would say as he lay dying “he is already dead.” This is a bit different from what I heard at home before coming to the lonely jungle. “Leave them alone,” you would hear folk say. “They are happy the way they are.” Dying and dead, yes but not happy the way they are. If we could only see we would help more; pray that the Lord of the harvest would open our eyes to see God high and lifted up as Isaiah saw Him and let more of us say,” Here I am Lord, send me.”