God's New Knot

Way back in the 1880's, Lutheran missionaries from Germany came to Papua New Guinea to save souls, build roads, and teach literacy. In the early 20th century, some of the local Kâte [KAW-tay] people who had converted to Christianity wanted to travel inland and spread the Good News to their fellow islanders. They were committed to their work, but they quickly faced a truly staggering problem: the people that they met when they left their coastal villages spoke different languages – many, many different languages. In fact, we now know that Papua New Guinea has 840 distinct language groups, making it the most linguistically diverse nation on the planet. They really had no idea what they were getting into.

After a strenuous three-day hike, the missionaries arrived at a settlement of Nabak people. They were not welcomed warmly, but at least these Kâte foreigners from the coast had the same skin color and kinky hair. The Nabak leaders, all elderly men, agreed to meet with these strangers.

The evangelists decided to try an object lesson. They held up strips of red cloth, and using the trade language they explained, as best they could, “The red represents the blood of Jesus that he shed when he died on the cross for our sin.” With more gestures and repetition, they started tying the strips of cloth to their wrists and to the wrists of the Nabak people.

Up to this point the Nabak elders sat quietly observing, but as the foreigners tied the knot, they leaned forward with interest. "Just like we two are joined together, God wants to join himself to us people on the ground,” the evangelist said.

“It’s picture talk,” another evangelist explained. He put his arm next to the arm of a Nabak man and with his other hand tied a knot in the red cloth. "See, now we’re together. That's what God wants to do.”

The Nabak chief signaled to the other men - their plan to kill these evangelists was off. They assigned the foreigners a place to sleep, even though earlier they had said that the visitors would not be allowed to stay.

While they slept, the Nabak elders met in the men’s house, a special longhouse in the middle of the village where all major decisions were made. As the men squatted before the fire pit to warm their hands, the leading elder began. “I know we agreed this morning, when we saw those foreigners coming over the mountain, that we would trick them into sitting down and talking,” he said.

"Then we'd surprise them and kill them,” another continued. “We saw your signal and figured you must have something else in mind.” 

“What was that knot anyway?” asked still another. They looked around into each other’s faces. No one had seen a knot like that. “It’s different. Not at all like the kind of knots we make.”  

The elder considered, “This is a new knot. Our ancestors never taught us that one.”

That night, the men agreed that the new knot was unique. Before going to sleep, they all agreed on three things. First, they would invite the foreigners to have another meeting in the morning so they could better discern their words. Second, everyone must pay very close attention to the knot. And, third, they decided to call the entire village to come and hear what the evangelists said. 

"Everyone should see those knots in the red cloth,” the leading elder said.

Later the Nabak said. "It was because of that knotted cloth,” they said, “that we listened to the messengers and did not harm them.”

Why did that make such a difference?

The Nabak people have a custom related to tying knots. Lacking a written language, it is their way of pointing out or marking an item. The custom indicates that a promise or agreement has been made. For instance, if any passerby sees a vine from the leaf of wild sugar cane knotted on a string of bananas, he knows it's designated by the owner as a gift to an uncle or for a feast.

Exchange relationships are very common among the Nabak. If a man gives a butchered pig to someone as a gift, he lays a knot made from tough vine on top of the pig meat. Later, when the one who received the pork wants to give a gift back to that person, he returns the vine, now untied, with his gift. It’s almost as if he says, “Look, we’ve got a relationship going here. You started it, now I’m doing my part.” It’s a symbol of mutual trust and unity.

The Nabak people also do very intricate string art. It’s a complicated form of cat's cradle. Some make complex designs by holding the string in their fingers, their teeth and their toes.

Sometimes a group of women perform the design together. They form a circle, and each holds onto the string that has been tied to form a circle. As the women dance and sing, they move to pick up a section of the string from someone else. Following the rhythm of the song, one after another, they duck and lunge. The string soon crisscrosses the circle, looking like a mingled mass; then suddenly a bird-of-paradise shape appears. As the ladies step back and forth, the wings of the bird flap. 

Of all the object lessons that the evangelists might have used to explain the gospel to the Nabak people, they chose the perfect one, a lesson that resonated deeply and spoke to their long-standing cultural traditions. And so, long before my parents arrived on Christmas day, in 1969, God had already been at work preparing Nabak hearts with the use of a knot, of all things.

As my parents helped the Nabak translate the words of the living God into their native tongue, they came across the word "agreement" or "covenant" many times. After much discussion, they chose the word "knot" to represent these words, this truth. God tied his knot with the Nabak. His words in the New Testament are called God's “new knot.” Blessed be the tie that binds.

When we presented the completed Nabak translation of the New Testament - God’s New Knot - to the Nabak people, each copy came with a red ribbon to represent God’s covenant.

To see my Mom tell this story in her own words click here.