Last Boat Out of Fuga

Typhoon Halong cuts across our landing as we arrive in Claveria. See the video at the beginning of our boat ride.

We stood on the beach and watched the boat arrive which would transport our team from Fuga Island to Claveria, on the Philippine “mainland.” We had been stuck on the island for three days due to stormy weather and rough seas. As a result I had missed a preaching engagement as well as our one day pastor’s conference. This reminded us that we propose plans and God disposes of those not factored into His own plan.

The security for the island, new this year, made sure our team of 12 (8 Filipinos and 4 Americans) had priority for the crossing. The security men donned an old rifle and a sawed off shotgun. It would be the last boat off the island. We watched as our baggage and the stuff of others was loaded and covered. And then, in typical fashion an additional host of people joined us as we climbed onboard. There was a total of @25 persons which included the boat crew. Yes, it seemed overloaded, but this was no new feeling! Our team of seven men, 3 ladies, and two kids was stoked about finally getting off the primitive island and going back to civilization.

It was around 11:45 when we left and I guessed an arrival in Claveria around 2:30 pm, based on our previous crossing of the South China Sea to the island. It was cloudy and a little breezy and we all knew if we did not take this boat we might be here a few more days. This would mean missing our international flight home, rescheduling many flights, and other hassles. Little did we know that this trip would take more than four hours and we would make landfall as Typhoon Halong (also known as Cosme) was sweeping through.

The first half of our trip was uneventful. The seas were a little rougher than our first crossing where the sea had been like glass and we sped along to Fuga. It drizzled a little. After a time the waves grew bigger and I began to think of the power of the sea and the majesty of God in particular. Pastor Danny, sitting in front of me was singing from time to time. He was holding his son, covered by a tarp and sleeping. His wife sat beside my daughter Kaitlyn on a bench with their other son basically wrapped in a clear plastic bag. Her name is Heizel and she would scream in the moments to follow as the water of the waves slapped her in the face. Strangely, some of the unbelievers on the boat seemed to hold to the superstition that if we made noise the waves would grow bigger.

Indeed, we would all leave this trip drenched. I was so close to the sea that I could stretch my foot out into the water. I enjoyed a fair share of face shots from the waves which took my breath away from time to time. I looked behind me and saw my daughter Kaitlyn holding hands with Sarabeth, the other 17 year old teenage girl on our team. Pastor Randy sat behind me and I suppose he was in prayer and deep thought as he usually is on such crossings. After this trip his wife told me he came home and cried as he sat in silence looking at his two daughters. Pastors Allan and Glenn stood at the back of the boat. Pastor Jong moved about talking to the crew. Billy Webb, the other American man besides me, would stand up and hug a center post for the last half of the trip.

I began to watch as the waves crested and grew. I imagined the boat being totally swamped by one of them and yes . . . I considered the movie The Perfect Storm. At times I felt the thrill of a roller coaster ride. The crew then became more active, pushing and pulling the ropes on the boat to adjust to the crashing waves. They stood on wooden supports just over the water. One of the crew was pulled back into the boat by Pastor Allan and another almost went into the water as well.

After a few hours we were riding parallel to the shore and I began to think of the Apostle Paul in the book of Acts—as their boat headed for the land. I wondered if we might just break for the shore and hope for the best at some random landing. We saw only one other boat on the entire journey. We heard of one other that had to jettison part of its cargo in order to get safely to shore. Well, we were not heading for shore. We kept riding over the awesome looking waves and from time to time the right side of the boat would lift into the air, giving us the sensation of the boat flipping over. The gas was getting lower, though we were in no immediate danger of running out. That would have been disastrous. I looked in vain for the familiar site of the Claveria landing. We were crawling through the tumultuous sea.

Finally, after nearly four hours one of our Pastors, Jong, told the boat operator to head for an alternative landing. Thus, we turned left and began riding the waves toward the shore. But the engines sputtered due to water and we had to turn around and head back out to sea. I remember Billy repeating, “Why are we not landing; why are we heading back out?” He was incredulous. But the Briggs and Straton engines kicked in again and we made our second attempt. (Yes, these boats run on a basic lawn-mower engine.) This time we surfed the boat in and made it out of the heavy sea to an inlet. One man had been constantly crossing himself and muttering prayers. I looked at Pastor Danny who was actually crying tears of joy. We had made it and even the unbelievers onboard were thanking God.

The typhoon rain began just as we arrived. Back in Laoag City folks were praying and fasting. In America some were praying also. Our team went to Pastor Glenn’s parents’ home and we had a light meal before renting a bus to Laoag City. We arrived there after 8:00 pm and all were intrigued to hear about our ride. I finally went to bed around 1:00 a.m.

The next day those of us onboard were still talking about God’s deliverance from the typhoon driven waves. Indeed, the memory of this South China Sea crossing could threaten to dominate our minds as we think back on the May 2008 Fuga trip. However, at least for me, that cannot happen. Instead, I choose to focus on something much more monumental. A few nights prior to this ride I had asked many in a small village, “Does anyone here want to be saved?” I was surprised to see a man raise his hand and then as I asked him to come forward, others followed suit. Men, women, and children responded to the offer of salvation in Jesus Christ and then told Pastor Allan they would like a bible study to begin in their village. It is the memory of this which will once again take me back to crossing the South China Sea in April 2009 as we seek to be God’s instruments in establishing the kingdom of God among the poor residents on primitive Fuga Island. You are welcome to join us.