Greetings, my friends, from the steamy, sultry South; at least such was a case a few days ago.  Now, the air is pleasantly cool, and my late crop is starting to come up.  There’s a slight tinge of Fall in the air, it seems.  I am more than ready for cool and crisp autumn nights, a glorious time of year.

Be encouraged those that are troubled with us in these dark times:  A passage from Psalm 2, so often taken out of context and applied to missions, assures the believer that all will one day be made right under Messiah’s reign.  Though the kings of the earth and its rulers gather themselves together against the Lord, scoffing and seeking to overthrow His rule, He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh (Yes, the Lord does laugh; He chuckles at the thought of men trying to supplant Him--see also Psalm 37:13; 59:8).  God’s anointed, the Lord Jesus Christ, will be given the heathen as an inheritance: He will break them with a rod of iron and dash them like a potter’s vessel.  Wickedness and corruption will topple.  The Lord Jesus Christ will soon return and physically set up a kingdom that will triumph for a millennium.  And, His saints will rule and reign with Him. Therefore, “Serve the LORD with fear, and rejoice with trembling.  Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little.  Blessed are they that put their trust in him” (Psalm 2:11-12).    sic semper tyrranus!

Back in May and June, we drove 6,692 miles, taking the Gospel of Jesus Christ all the way up through Quebec, across Labrador, down Newfoundland’s West Coast, over to Prince Edward Island, and back through New England with Bishnu Shrestha, FPGM’s national partner from Nepal.  In my last update, I wrote of our adventures on the Labrador.  Allow me to continue the tale.

First, however, may I humbly request your prayers regarding Bishnu.  He safely made it back to Nepal and will be journeying out to the remote Far West again shortly.  Lord willing, he and I will go back out there yet again in November.  As mentioned before, we our working toward planting a self-sustaining church in Bataidi and praying for godly leadership that might be ordained to shepherd the handful of believers in that place.  Moreover, countless unreached mountain villages enjoin us to the preaching of the Gospel and a task in Nepal’s Far West that is far from complete.  Please pray for these things, for Bishnu’s safety, and for God’s provision for him to continue making these journeys.  It’s not cheap or logistically simple to get out to Bataidi.

In terms of Nepal, please don’t forget to pray for me and my family as we are making preparations to return there for an extended period of time.  Lord willing, I will be departing the first of November, and my family will be following a few weeks later.  We are looking for a place to live in Kathmandu, and there are some major needs that will have to be met for such a journey to take place (visas, plane tickets, etc.).  But, as is always the case, the Lord never guides where He does not provide.  Just pray that all things come together and that we are obedient.

From Labrador (i.e. back in June), Bishnu, Bethany, and I ferried across the Strait of Belle Isle to Newfoundland and spent the next few days making our way down the massive island’s 400-mile western coast.  As I write, I recall a plethora of images to my mind:  hushed rocky coastline and crystal clear North Atlantic waters, Hwy. 430 as it hugged the sea, the crags of Gros Morne--the northern terminus of the Appalachian Range, quaint harbors and vigilant lighthouses, local fishermen that smelled like Tibetan nomads, end-of-the-world seaside towns, barren tablelands, moose in the road, salted cod, abandoned crab shacks and piles of weathered lobster traps, fishing boasts offloading 10-20,000 lbs. of turbot, fog, rain, more rain, and a younger generation that had completely forgotten the great revivals wrought amongst their fathers as recently as the 1960’s when open-air preachers came by boat to proclaim the Word of God in the very towns we passed through.  One man told us that his grandfather, like many in those days, walked for miles to hear the preaching of the Gospel on Newfoundland’s western coast.  What a privilege it was for us to sow seeds in such places.

In Hawke’s Bay, we gave out a few Gospel tracts and put out others.  At a picnic table there, we devoured a rotisserie chicken and some curried potatoes before napping in the grass along the shore.  A possible contact in that small seaside town fell through (the guy had gone to St. John’s), so we left a Gospel tract on his door, praying that the Lord would use it.  In desperate need of some real rest and showers, we were a bit bummed.  Nevertheless a kind Providence directed elsewhere, and by day’s end, there was provision.

In Parson’s Pond, I noticed a young man walking down the road as well as John 3:16 displayed prominently on a big sign in front of a “Gospel Hall.”  I passed these but sensed a need to turn around.  So, we swung into the Gospel Hall parking lot, and I went to share Christ with the passerby.  He took a tract.  As Bishnu and I were then studying the map and trying to figure out where to camp, a man approached from across the street.  Mr. Caines was a believer and had noticed the Gospel messages on our trailer after we turned around.  To make a long story short, our speaking on the things of the Lord eventually led to showers, a hot meal, and an invite to stay the night.  We gratefully obliged.  That evening, Bethany made a few friends and got to go horseback riding while Bishnu and I had opportunity to preach the Gospel to a group of local kids.  I recall two young ladies who listened with intent and two young men who accepted Bibles, having never possessed ones of their own.  Later, at a nearby state park, we climbed up some limestone arches, enjoyed gorgeous sunset hues, and were able to witness to three young men from Ontario.  We also stashed some Gospel tracts in a geo-cache that Mr. Caines’ son found.  The fellowship in the Caines’ home was sweet, and we were very grateful for the Lord’s provision.  Truly, all had been divinely ordered, and I pray that our presence encouraged Mr. Caines and his wife unto boldness and that his two children were convicted toward salvation.  Interestingly, the Gospel Hall in Parson’s Pond (as well as others up and down Newfoundland’s western coast), where we were parked when Mr. Caines first noticed our trailer, was started as a result of open-air preachers who came through on boats in the 1960’s.  According to Mr. Caines, God wrought great revivals at the time and in that place, and the stories he told reminded me of things I had read concerning the Great Awakenings in America.  Alas, however, he divulged: “A mere 50 years later, the younger generations have become hardened, cold, and ignorant of Gospel truth.”  Isn’t that always the way?

The next morning, we bade farewell to our new friends, and continued south.  Out at Cow Head, we hiked to an old lighthouse and witnessed to a couple of people on the trail.  At the nearby harbor, we cooked lunch and spent some time amongst the local fishermen.  Small, rickety boats were hauling in huge loads of turbot that morning, and Bethany was fascinated by the offloading.  We gave out some Gospel tracts and socks to the fishermen and had a few good conversations about the things of the Lord, though the local Newfoundland accent was very difficult to follow.  I remember Paul, Captain Gary, and a few others.  Please pray for the salvation of these.  Bethany loved getting into Captain Gary’s boat and turning the wooden helm.  This man invited us to join him and his crew on a 4-5 day trip up to Greenland and back.  I wish there had been time.

From Cow Head, we headed south into Gros Morne National Park.  At a full parking lot, we left tracts on every vehicle.  In Rocky Harbor, a gorgeous coastal town, a few tracts went out.  The evening, we crossed over the mountains and hit the streets of Deer Lake before dark.  Gospel tracts again went out, and we were able to preach to a group of teenagers behind an old grocery store.  They listened and seemed open.  We thanked God for the opportunity and made a Tim Horton’s run before camping in a secluded gravel pit just off the Trans-Canada Highway.

The next two days were spent in Corner Brook, a sizable town built right on the steep hillsides overlooking the water.  Pouring rain forced us to break for a hotel room, and I had to get some minor vehicle repairs done.  We definitely needed the rest.  That night, we scraped an awesome meal together from our food crate, cooked on a camping stove right there in the hotel room:  rice, beef, and eggplant in a curried daal.  Only Bishnu could have properly prepared those gourmet vittles from our dwindled stash.

Of course, we hit the streets in Corner Brook, and though pouring rain, we did find people.  A lot of tracts went out to high-school kids who were breaking for lunch.  One strange 78-year-old man got so angry with me when I tried to share the Gospel.  He scoffed at the existence of God and then became furious when I quoted Psalm 14.  I make no apologies.  Ironically, Bishnu later talked to him, and he seemed to listen. ‘Twas a sad example of one hardened in his old age.  Please pray for this man’s salvation.  While sauntering through an old part of downtown, a man invited me over to his porch for coffee.  I welcomed the warm cup of joe and the break from the rain, and the conversation quickly turned to the Gospel.  Stephen seemed open as was another man who later joined us.  I soon discovered that this man was quite poor, so we gave him fresh socks, a loaf of bread, and some juice.  He was extremely grateful, and I asked myself:  How is it that he, being so needful, shared his coffee with us?  Wow.  I considered it a divine appointment.  Please pray for Stephen and Jeff.  There was also a young native boy from Fort McMurray way up in Northern Alberta.  Don’t ask me what he was doing in Corner Brook, Newfoundland.  He took a tract and seemed open.  We also shared with some folks in an interesting shop where I picked up that tattered copy of The Lure of the Labrador Wild, Dillon Wallace’s account of the fateful Hubbard expedition into interior Labrador back in 1903 (I devoured the book in a few short days).  All in all, ‘twas a good outing in poor weather.  Weirdly, we were the only ones with an umbrella, and the rain seemed to bring the people out.

Our crew left Corner Brook in a misty rain and drove up and over the forested mountains, northern fringes of the Appalachians.  A side trip out to Cape Anguille took us to another “end of the world” where we witnessed to two young boys on a lonely street.  I wonder if that encounter will have some effect on them years down the road.  God knoweth.  ‘Twas blustery and cold out there, but we beheld an amazing mini-rainbow right over some old lighthouse living quarters.  Later, it was lunch by the sea, a steak dinner cooked on a camping stove in an abandoned cul-de-sac on the outskirts of Port-aux-Basques, and another Tim Horton’s run before driving out to Rose Blanche and camping on some rocky bluffs.  A bunch of ragamuffin teens descended upon the Tim Horton’s coffee shop and were extremely obnoxious, particularly one inebriated punk.  We sought an opportunity to witness, but found none.  Oh, well.  That night was chilly and clear, and the stars were out en masse.  Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn formed an obvious triangle to the West, and I remembered seeing the same phenomenon several years ago while camped in Mt. Rainier National Park in Washington State.  Truly, we watched as the heavens declared the glory of God (Psalm 19:1) and were reminded that men are without excuse (Psalm 19:2-3; Romans 1:20).

Our final morning on Newfoundland, we hiked out to an old lighthouse at dawn, drove back to Port-aux-Basques and cooked breakfast in the same abandoned cul-de-sac, and got one last Tim Horton’s coffee before boarding the MV Atlantic, a huge super-ferry that would take us back to the mainland in Nova Scotia.  Interestingly, we ran into the same punk who had been three-sheets-to-the-wind the night before.  Then, we had found no opportunity to witness, this occasion was different. I was firm with the Gospel and gave him a tract; he accepted it.  Praise the Lord.  On that note, we bade farewell to another place, another culture, another far-off land.  Will it ever end?

There’s still more to tell about our passing through Nova Scotia, the time with Nepali-speaking Bhutanese refugees on Prince Edward Island, and the return trip through New England.  But, I’ll save it for the next update.  My last correspondence was so lengthy; it behooves me to keep this a bit more succinct.

Please pray for me next week.  The college campuses are opening back up for a new year, and I will be spending a few days with Shawn Holes up in Pennsylvania, preaching  and witnessing on the campus of Penn State University and at couple of local colleges.  Pray that God will open up a door of utterance (Colossians 4:3); that the Word would not return void (Isaiah 55:11); that we might speak boldly as we ought to speak (Ephesians 6:19-20); and that we would be ready, with meekness and fear, to give an answer to every man that asks a reason of the hope that is in us (I Peter 3:15).  Pray also that the authorities will respect and protect our First Amendment rights under the United States Constitution.  These days, such is far from a given.

Your Obedient Servant in Christ Jesus,

Jesse Boyd