3 No Candle in the Darkness

As Dale looked intently at the swift flowing muddy water of the Pachitea River, he
muttered, Now what shall I do, Lord? He had come this far deliberately trying to avoid
making plans for himself, and everything had worked out amazingly welluntil now, that is.
Now he felt nervous about going on, yet he knew he couldnt go back.
Behind him lay the grubby little jungle metropolis that bore the exotic name Puerto Inca, all
three streets of it. We use the name streets for lack of a better word. They were nothing more
than wide footpaths, for there were no roads to Puerto Inca and therefore no motor vehicles in
town either. The main street was about five blocks long at the edge of the river, for the river was
the highway of commerce there in the jungle.
Up one level was the police station. Being right in the middle of that street put it
strategically in the very center of the little town. A short distance down that street was the
location of the spring with clear cool water which was the reason people settled here in the first
place. The spring had been developed with a concrete retaining wall and a cement floor to
prevent erosion. Several pipes carried water through the wall. One pipe was conveniently low
to make it easy for the towns people to fill their buckets and pots with drinking water. Another
pipe about waist high poured into a large shallow basin where the women liked to wash their
clothes. And a high pipe offered an excellent shower where you could cool off on a hot day
with your clothes on for modesty, of course, since there were usually spectators around.
The third street was on the top level where the land was quite flat. The Catholic Church and
the municipal medical clinic were at one end of this street. This clinic had a reputation of being
very poorly staffed and equipped. There were also a bank of sorts and the municipal office
building on this street. The street ended at the grass airstrip that was long enough to
accommodate the twin-engine cargo planes that occasionally came to Puerto Inca. Much more
common were the small air taxis that flew in and out nearly every day. It was here on this street
that Richard Gates bought a lot on which to build the Adventist Church. The congregation didnt
exist yet, but Richard, being an ordained minister as well as a pilot, envisioned with the eye of
faith a group of believers being established here to be like a lighted candle in this little
community.
Dale was so grateful for Richard who had brought him to Puerto Inca that morning in the
Adventist Missions Cessna 185. He had brought some supplies for the building that could serve
as a place to hold evangelistic meetings and would later become the Adventist Church, and so he
invited Dale to come along for a free ride.
Richard was always so thoughtful and helpful. Dale still remembered vividly their arrival
in Peru at midnight just a couple months ago. They were dreading their layover in Iquitos, a
tropical city they had never visited before, but there in the terminal building that night they
spotted the smiling face of Richard, and their dread turned to joy. He had conveniently managed
to arrange to take care of some business in Iquitos at the time of their scheduled arrival, and he
had also thoughtfully arranged for the use of some vacant rooms at the Ana Stahl Hospital where
they could sleep the rest of the night.
A couple days later they were able to get a connecting flight to Pucallpa which is the large
city at the end of the road that crosses the Andes Mountains and comes into the jungle from
Lima, the capital city of Peru, a road about 500 miles long. At the edge of a lake near Pucallpa
was the Adventist Air Base where Richard and his wife Meraldine lived, and Richard informed
them that one of the staff houses at the base was temporarily vacant, and they could rent it for a
few months for just a nominal fee, the equivalent of about US$22 a month, while they were trying
to get settled on their farm on the Pachitea River. They had made no plans and hardly any
preparations for what they would do upon their arrival, but God apparently was already at work
providing for their needs.
They were eager to see their new farm for the first time, so a few days after their arrival
Richard helped them arrange for a flight to Puerto Inca, and he and his son David went with
them to introduce them to Emerson Panduro, the previous owner of the property. Emerson
proved to be a very friendly likable person, and he took everybody down the river in his large
homemade wooden boat. When he slowed down and pulled up to the bank of the river,
everybody wondered where the farm was, for all that they could see looked like nothing but
jungle growth. After they climbed up the steep bank, they could see that there had been a
clearing here at one time, but now the jungle was trying to move back in, and everything else was
covered with a thick growth of kudzu vines. At one side was a banana plantation struggling to
survive, and on the other side could be seen a few vine-covered poles that were all that remained
of a couple of rotting buildings. Obviously it would take a lot of work to prepare this place for
occupancy, but they werent discouraged. With optimistic eyes they could see beyond the
tangled vines to the possibilities that existed for this place that God had chosen for them.
Back at the air base Patti joined Meraldine in the small day clinic she operated for their
neighbors. This gave Patti the opportunity to get acquainted with the kinds of medical problems
she would most likely encounter in this part of the world and the medicines that were available
in the local pharmacies.
Ted and Dale made a few trips back to Puerto Inca to start working on the homestead. Their
new friend Emerson was now their contact man, and he continued to be very helpful. He owned
a small house in town that he permitted them to use as a place where they could store their
equipment and supplies and where they could even spend a night if necessary. He also had an
extra boat that he let them borrow, and that was a great blessing to them.
One of their first projects was to clear a space for a small garden, and then they planted the
seeds they had brought with them. Progress was very slow, however, so one day Emerson said
to them, I really should have cleared this land for you before you arrived. I have decided to hire
some Cunchis to clear ten hectares (about 22 acres) of the river frontage for you.
Whats a Cunchi? Dale wanted to know.
Emerson grinned. Thats really the name of a kind of catfish that lives in this river, but the
local people use that as a nickname for the Quechua Indians who moved down here from the
highlands to a settlement they call Sira that is about two hours down the river from us. They all
belong to a religious group called The Israelites of the New Covenant. For some reason they
believe they shouldnt cut their hair, so the men wrap it around on top of their head and cover it
with a cap. But the Indian men arent able to grow a bushy beard, and all they have on their
chins are a few scraggly hairs that remind the local people of the whiskers on a catfish. So thats
why we call them Cunchis, but theyre good honest workers who wont steal from you.
These were thoughts that passed through Dales mind that morning as he stood there at the
edge of the Pachitea River. He was all alone this time, because Ted was busy trying to get
clearance to use his airplane in Peru. The thought of going down the river by himself was rather
frightening, but the Cunchis would be there working when he arrived. Furthermore he had read
in his private devotional time the comforting promise, Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have
called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and
when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.1
The situation was further complicated by the fact that Emersons extra boat wasnt available
for Dales use this time, but one of the principles in their covenant with God was that they would
always do what they could with what they had on hand. In the storeroom was Dales inflatable
boat with a 5 h.p. outboard motor. He didnt like to use it anymore, because the floor of the boat
had sprung a leak that made a mess of things, but since the large tubes that formed the sides of
the boat provided most of the buoyancy and they were still airtight, there was little danger of
sinking. Hed better go for it, so before he could change his mind he hurried over to the
storeroom to get the boat and the supplies he would need.
It took him an hour to inflate the boat by mouth, and soon little boys gathered around to
watch this strange spectacle. Then he planned carefully how to load his cargo. The tent and tools
went in first, because they wouldnt be damaged by water in the bottom of the boat. His food
went into two large canner kettles for protection. Bedding, towels, clothes, and perishable things
went on top of the first items, and last the wheelbarrow was placed upside down on top of
everything else. As he was loading the boat, he became alarmed at how fast the water was
leaking in this time, but he didnt want to turn back now. Ill just do a lot of bailing, he
muttered to himself.
He tied a flotation belt around his waist. Then barefooted he shoved the boat away from
shore until he felt it floating freely. He climbed aboard and proceeded to start the motor. After
about the fourth pull on the rope, the motor sputtered to life, and he steered out to the middle of
the river. He was just settling down for a pleasant ride down the river when the motor suddenly
died. He tried a few more pulls on the rope but to no avail. He rechecked the gas tank, and there
was plenty of fuel. He tried readjusting the needle valve on the carburetor, but nothing he tried
would coax that motor back to life. Oh, well, he said to himself, this current is taking me fast
enough in the direction I want to go. Lets see, when I get there Ill need a paddle to get to shore.
I wonder what I can use as a paddle? As he looked around he spied his long handled shovel.
Yes, that would make a good paddle.
Dale wasnt very familiar with this river yet, so he had to keep a sharp lookout for the
landing at his farm. After about an hour of free floating he finally recognized the place up ahead,
so he grabbed his shovel and started paddling. A few strokes on the right side just spun the boat
around to the left. That would never do, so he tried alternating one stroke on each side. That
stopped the spinning, but it was so slow and cumbersome that there was no discernible progress,
so he stood up in the boat so that he could alternate sides more rapidly. That was much better,
and he concentrated on his rowing for a few minutes. But when he looked up again, he was
startled by the realization that he was moving downstream a lot faster than he was moving
toward the shore. He resumed paddling frantically as he cried out, Oh, Lord, help me get to
shore! But no angel was sent to push him to the riverbank, and the boat fairly flew right past
the farm.
He sank to his knees in despair. Where would he end up now? Maybe down on the
Amazon in the middle of Brazil somewhere. But then quite a way ahead he saw a tree that had
fallen over with some of its branches in the water but the roots still clinging to the bank. His
hopes revived. If he could reach that tree, maybe he could pull himself and the boat over to the
shore, so he stood up and started paddling furiously once more. As soon as he could tell that he

1
Isaiah 43:1-2.
was headed straight toward the tree, he laid down the shovel and sat down to grab the first
branch he came to. He caught it, but to his dismay the pull of the current was so strong that it
was all he could do just to hang on. He would wear out fast at this rate, so in desperation he
grabbed a short chain that was attached to the motor and quickly wrapped it around the branch.
Now he could rest a bit, but the chain crossed one of his legs and pinned him down so that
he could hardly move, and it pressed down so much on the edge of the boat that water started to
lap in, and soon a miniature lake was forming in the bottom of the boat. The canner kettles
containing his food began to float, and then they tipped over dousing all the food with river
water. His little suitcase started to float as well, but it wasnt a good swimmer and quickly sank
to the bottom of the boat. Things were going from bad to worse, so he released the chain and
braced himself to get a better grip on the next branch. This was a definite improvement, but still
all he could do was hang on. How could he ever escape from this predicament?
Then he heard a welcome sound, the sound of a boat coming up the river fast. The sound of
the motor slowed down, and it was apparent that the occupants of the silver speedboat were
trying to figure out what that strange brightly colored blue and yellow thing stuck in the fallen
tree might be. Dale started yelling as loud as he could, Socorro! Socorro! (Help! Help!), and
he was thrilled to see the boat turn and come toward him.
It was obvious that this boat could not come into the tree branches to get him, so he would
have to let go and float out to open water. But when he did so, another branch hit the
wheelbarrow and started pushing it off his boat. He desperately tried to save his precious
wheelbarrow, but instead he lost his balance and followed it into the river. He quickly bobbed
up to the surface again, and his inflatable boat was right beside him, so he reached out with his
left hand and grabbed the rope that circled the boat. He felt sick about the loss of his
wheelbarrow. He needed it so much. Since it had been upside down, he wondered if maybe it
had trapped some air so that it wouldnt sink very fast. The river was so muddy he couldnt see
a thing below the surface, but he moved his hand around through the murky water. It bumped
into something hard and round, so he grabbed it, sure that it must be one handle of the
wheelbarrow.
Now the silver boat was pulling along side, and a man reached over the edge and said in
Spanish, Give me your hand, and Ill pull you up.
No, Dale responded as he raised his right hand above the surface of the water, still
clutching the wheelbarrow handle. First take my wheel-barrow. The man gave him a startled
look as if he wanted to say, You stupid Gringo. Here you are about to drown, and youre still
hanging onto your old wheelbarrow. But he actually said nothing as he hoisted the wheelbarrow
into the boat, and then he pulled Dale aboard.
Dale tried to explain where he needed to go, and they showed a willingness to try to help
him get there. Just then another speedboat roared up and pulled up along side. After
exchanging a few words, they passed the wheelbarrow over to the other boat, and it took off
again, leaving Dale with the sick feeling that he would never see his beloved wheelbarrow again.
His benefactors tried to tow his boat upstream, but it quickly became apparent that the
inflatable boat produced too much drag, and that would never work. Just take me to the shore,
and Ill find some way to get back to my farm, he suggested, so they eased his boat to the
nearest landing and left him there.
A woman was sitting there in her dugout canoe washing clothes. Dale dejectedly started
bailing water out of his boat as he breathed a silent prayer, Lord, thank you for saving me out of that
fallen tree, but I dont know what to do now. Im at the end of my rope, so youll have to take over again.
He talked to the woman for a little while about his predicament, and then without making any
comment she got up and walked away. She returned shortly and announced, My husband will
take you to your farm. A few minutes later the husband himself appeared, a tall man with a
European look. He introduced himself as Andres Rofner, and then they went to work trans-
ferring the gear from Dales boat to his boat. They let the air out of the rubber boat, folded it up,
and packed it in too.
When they arrived at the farm, Dale was thrilled to see his wheelbarrow there on the
riverbank. They quickly unloaded everything, and then Dale tried to pay his new friend for his
help. No, never! Mr. Rofner objected. Neighbors help each other here.
Im very grateful to you, responded Dale. My wife is a nurse, and after she comes, if you
folks ever get sick, maybe we will be able to help you.
Dale was eager to see how the plants were doing, so he hurried up to the garden. The sight
that met his eyes was very disappointing. The beans were just a row of sticks, completely
stripped of leaves. Half of the squashes were dead, and the rest looked sick. The struggling little
cabbages looked like a miniature machine gun had shot the leaves full of holes. Only the
tomatoes and two cucumber plants still looked pretty good. But there was no time to mourn, for
the sky was darkening for a rain. As he hurried by the one lone papaya tree, he noticed its heavy
load of ripening fruit and was thankful to have at least that source of good food.
He hurried to pitch the tent, and even before he quite finished, the typical blast of wind with
a few big scattered wet drops announced the arrival of the storm. Suddenly he heard a crash,
and he turned to see what had happened. The sight almost left him in a state of shock. That one
lone, beautiful papaya tree had blown over. The top had broken off, and the green fruits were
scattered all around.
He wearily crawled into the soggy tent to escape from the rain. He was hungry, but his food
had been doused with river water. He needed to get out of his wet clothes, but everything in his
suitcase got soaked, so there was nothing dry to put on. He wouldnt freeze to death there in the
tropics, but he still knew it would be a cold miserable night. He curled up on his cot and
announced to nobody in particular, God isnt blessing this experiment. Everything is going
wrong. Im getting out of here. Im through with it all. THROUGH! Im going back to the States
to the comfortable life we had there, and Im going to forget all about this foreign mission
business.
Fortunately he couldnt implement that decision at that moment, and during that night of
misery he sympathized with the words of Job, How I long for the months gone by, for the days
when God watched over me, when his lamp shone upon my head and by his light I walked
through darkness!2 There was no candle shining on Dales head that night, but another morning
surely would come to dispel the darkness. When things cant get any darker, they always have to
get brighter.

2
Job 29:2-3.