I knew my dad, Robert Hicks, was sick. He was diagnosed with cancer in April 2017. But I hoped he would hold on long enough so I could see him again when our furlough begins next May. However, on Sabbath, October 14, he went to sleep until the resurrection.

Yes, I was sad and grieved, but I had already said goodbye two and a half years earlier when we left for PNG. Asleep in Jesus, my dad doesn’t hurt anymore. Cancer had plagued him with pain in his back, arms and legs. In the grave, my dad has no more contact with anyone and doesn’t do anything, not even as a spirit. Jesus keeps my dad’s memory safe until, in a twinkle of an eye, my dad will receive an immortal body at the last trumpet, and with all the saints we will meet our Lord in the air. We will all shout together “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1 Cor. 15:54, 55). After my father’s death, it took Edie and me 10 days to get to my mother’s house in Oklahoma. Our family has pulled together, and put our trust is in the Lord that we will see my dad again when Jesus comes to take us all to his Father’s house in heaven.

Sadly, there are many in our villages here in PNG who have not yet accepted what the Bible teaches about death. For them, the death of a family member is devastating and involves many satanic rituals aimed at helping their loved one’s spirit enter the afterlife. They often have frightening encounters with beings who appear to be their departed family members but are actually demons in disguise. They live in dread of the deceased, but our work is to lead them to put their faith in the Lord of life.

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