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Back The Last Christian
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Other Books by This Author
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Acknowledgments
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. Author’s Note

Abby wished she could reach out and physically open the woman’s heart to what she was trying to say. “But wouldn’t you say your own wrong choices played a part in losing those relationships?”

“Wrong choices?” The woman looked out across the lake. “Hmm…I’m not sure I’d call them wrong. Immature, maybe. I might choose more wisely now.” She glanced down at her electronic pad. “Oh, I’m meeting someone. I have to go. I’ve enjoyed talking with you. My name’s Britta, by the way.”

“I’m Abby.”

“If you come again, you can tell me more about your time in the jungle.” Britta picked up her stuff and started down the path. She turned and waved as she went.

Abby waved back. She sat, looking down at the bench, discouraged. I didn’t even mention Jesus.

I turned to the next page in the journal.

May 24. I can’t keep pace with life here. Everything flies at me at incredible speed—people, news, entertainment, cars. I can’t think. I’m restless, and I can’t still my soul. In the jungle we took time to think. I miss the log down by the river where I used to sit every day, watching the water flow by, thinking about God, my life, my place in his grand scheme. Here, there is no such place. I can’t block out the assault of messages and images that come every moment of the day. Like an earthquake rippling through the jungle, the intrusions ceaselessly shake me. I don’t know how to make them stop or how to be still.

May 27. I have no sense of belonging here. There is no one who can relate to how I live, to how I see life. I’m alone in a vast sea of people. The only people who can understand me are the Inisi. The longer I’m here, the more my life in Papua New Guinea seems to intrude. I can’t help seeing the faces of the ones I loved. Of Miraba. I yearn for the way of life that God blessed me with in the jungle.

May 30.
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread? (Psalm 27:1–2)

I must fulfill my purpose in this place. I can’t run, though everything in me wants to flee. Heavenly Father, you are my light and my strength. I must lean on you every day. You are my protector as long as you give me breath to live upon the earth.

I skipped to after the time Abby moved in with me.

June 9. I’m surprised at the stirrings in me, feelings I’ve never felt before. I seem attracted to Creighton. I’m confused. Do I feel this way simply because he’s taken me in and been protective of me?