The Container Didn't Arrived

The container never arrived.

What had originally been a journey for just Dan and me had already become a journey for six people. But beyond that, every single plan we had made for Guinea-Bissau also began to change.

Before we even departed, we learned that the container probably would not arrive while we were there.

Some people had joined the trip hoping to witness the moment the container was unloaded. Dan himself had entered Guinea-Bissau early specifically to capture that moment on film. Each person had come with a clear sense of purpose for the journey, and yet everything was suddenly moving in a completely different direction.

And still, people gathered.

In such a short amount of time, everyone rushed to prepare — even getting yellow fever vaccinations at the last minute. I’m sure all of us had questions in our hearts.

I certainly did.

At first, this journey had begun simply from my desire to accompany Dan as he documented the story of the Bible project. But at some point, everything had changed.

The team.

The route.

The schedule.

The purpose.

Everything.

I worried that Dan might feel disappointed that we would not get to witness the container being unloaded. When the two sisters joined the team, he even admitted that he was concerned he might not be able to focus on what he originally came to do.

And in reality, the trip unfolded in a direction completely different from what we had planned.

But in the end, we experienced things none of us could have anticipated.

Things far beyond what any of us originally wanted.

After more than fifty hours of travel, we finally arrived in Guinea-Bissau.

Since 2019, I had returned there every year. Altogether, I had spent more than a full year of my life there. I had never come only for short visits. Every year I stayed for two or three months at a time, learning the language, building relationships, and serving alongside the people there.

It had become deeply familiar to me.

And yet this journey felt different.

For the first time, we were arriving without Missionary Kwak personally meeting us and guiding us through everything. That alone made me nervous.

Especially because I still vividly remembered the attack we experienced the previous year, when machete robbers assaulted us almost immediately after we arrived.

Even the familiar streets suddenly made me more cautious. Small situations made my body tense up.

We really have to walk this road ourselves now.

That thought kept pressing against my mind.

Maybe because of that, the two days we spent at the WEC base did not feel like simple rest.

It felt more like a moment to breathe again.

To steady ourselves.

To reexamine our direction.

And during that time, Mohammed, Seco, and Salu — who were studying in the capital — helped us greatly. I felt genuinely happy that I could finally introduce these friends to the rest of the team.

Although they could not join us for the time we would spend in the south, we walked together through the city all day long. We ate together, shared stories, and spent time in fellowship.

And the team finally met the very people I had talked about over and over again.

Mohammed had been a true co-worker through every stage of this journey since the very beginning — since the days when I first came to Guinea-Bissau and first began carrying God’s dream in my heart.

Sekou was the first young man who sat down and spoke with me during the season in 2022 when the Lord kept saying, “It is harvest time.” He accepted Jesus during those conversations and openly confessed before his Muslim friends that he would follow Christ.

And Salu…

Perhaps he was the friend with whom I had shared the most conversations of all.

He was also Missionary Mijung Kwak’s adopted son. More than anyone else, he carried deep fear and doubt. During my classes and teachings in 2022, he came to realize that Jesus truly was the Truth, but fear of people and fear of the consequences kept him from making any decision.

Then during last year’s camp, without telling anyone else, he quietly confessed before me that he wanted to receive Jesus.

And still, he continued to struggle and waver.

These stories deeply affected our team members as well.

All of them had come to do missions and share the gospel. But at the same time, each of them was also wrestling in their own lives — wrestling between the Lord, their future, and the opinions of other people.

Maybe that was why these stories no longer sounded like distant “mission field testimonies.”

Some shed tears of gratitude as they watched these young men continue living as witnesses of the gospel in such difficult realities.

Others simply rejoiced because they were finally meeting in person the very “main characters” I had talked about for so long.

And they prayed blessings over them.

Some even said:

“The fact that we can see this with our own eyes, carry these moments in our hearts, and pray for them ourselves… it feels like one of the reasons we came on this journey has already been fulfilled.”

I felt sad knowing they would not be with us for the time in the south.

And so, once again, I found myself saying the words.

“I’m heading south first and then going up to Gabú afterward… do you guys want to come too?”

“No, seriously. You have to come. I want us to see this together there.”

The YWAM team especially became deeply interested in Mohammed after hearing the story of how he had been healed in the name of Jesus in a completely Muslim village in the south, and how afterward he chose to follow Christ.

Of course, they would need permission from Missionary Kwak first.

But in my heart, I had already made my decision.

“Alright. One way or another, I’ll try to convince her too. Just come first.”

Honestly, even I did not know exactly how the schedule would unfold.

I had no certainty about what would happen next.

And still, I wanted us to see it together.

What the Lord was doing.

And together, I wanted us to press into that place.