remembering okta

April 2, 2017/Paul Windsor/
With my peripatetic lifestyle, there is a singular joy attached to landing in Auckland. I am home again. Children (and grandchildren) are not far away. Earlier this morning there was the added anticipation that a quick ‘de-planing’ and passage through immigration created the possibility of seeing my daughter (Lys) and her daughter (Lucia) before they flew south to Palmerston North.

It was not to be. We missed them by a few minutes. But that anticipated joy had already been eclipsed by sadness. As we taxi-ed on the runway I received a message that Okta, my friend and Langham colleague in Indonesia, had died suddenly in Lampung (Sumatra).

Okta at Taman Safari
As soon as I unpacked I was trawling my computer for photos. Two memories of Okta came into focus. One was the trip to the Taman Safari, further up the hill from Bogor in Indonesia. What a fun day it was. A little snake-whispering – and then a photo of the two of us that I will now cherish for forever.
By 2015 Okta had become a key member of our Indonesian team. At our first global forum in Turkey we had a representative from Indonesia on the list, but a special request came to add Okta as well. We agreed – and how good a decision did that prove to be?! Okta lit up the occasion with his warmth, his enthusiasm and his personality – as these photos demonstrate. What memories he created for all of us.
Okta conquers Turkey

Okta conquers us

Okta loved having us all display the ‘L for Langham’
Okta’s commitment to the Langham Preaching ministry was remarkable. Over the years, he scaled down his work as a veterinarian and began working with Langham full-time as a volunteer. In fact just last week he finished up in the office in order to dedicate his time to training and encouraging ‘preaching clubs’. Okta was a single man – but with parents and siblings still alive and so please keep them in your prayers.
I love how Dr Dwi Handayani (another member of the team in Indonesia) expresses it: “The resurrection of Jesus Christ gives us hope that we will meet you again Pak Okta Rumpak.”
not-so-nice chatting this time
Paul

Archive

Categories

Recent Posts

Receive new posts to your inbox

I’d love to keep you updated with my latest news and posts.

We don’t spam! Read our privacy policy for more info.

About Me

paul06.16

the art of unpacking

After a childhood in India, a theological training in the USA and a pastoral ministry in Southland (New Zealand), I spent twenty years in theological education in New Zealand — first at Laidlaw College and then at Carey Baptist College, where I served as principal. In 2009 I began working with Langham Partnership and since 2013 I have been the Programme Director (Langham Preaching). Through it all I've cherished the experience of the 'gracious hand of God upon me' and I've relished the opportunity to 'unpack', or exegete, all that I encounter in my walk through life with Jesus.

Posted in ,

6 Comments

  1. Heather on April 2, 2017 at 6:11 pm

    So sorry for your (and Langham's) loss. He looks so full of life. It is good to know you will see each other again.

    Reply
  2. Quaerentia on April 2, 2017 at 7:52 pm

    So sad as well as shocking.

    Reply
  3. Unknown on April 3, 2017 at 9:18 am

    Someone said that okta was langham' misionary. We agree with that. He introduce Langham to many churches.

    Reply
  4. Fred on April 3, 2017 at 11:38 am

    "peripatetic" – now that made me pull the Webster's off the shelf 🙂 Welcome home.

    Reply
  5. Unknown on April 3, 2017 at 4:58 pm

    I know about Langham because "Kak" Okta. So sad and miss him already.

    Reply
  6. Unknown on April 3, 2017 at 4:59 pm

    I know about Langham because "Kak" Okta. So sad and miss him already.

    Reply

Leave a Comment





This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Recent Posts

on being truly human

October 8, 2025

It was 1984. After finishing my classroom work for an MDiv from TEDS, Barby and I flew from Newark to London on People Express ($99pp). We were looking forward to a few weeks with my parents at All Nations Christian College in Ware (UK), where Dad was the principal. He met us at the airport…

missing and dismissing

September 17, 2025

I grew up with My Fair Lady—and for you younger ones, that is not a reference to my mother or one of my sisters. It is a movie, and like a number of movies from my childhood—Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines also comes to mind—they can be rather jarring to ear and eye…

on football—and preaching

September 9, 2025

Football helps me train preachers. See, when you speak to me about football—or, ‘footie’—I need to know where your feet are before I can understand what you mean. Are your feet in Ireland, or Brazil, or the USA, or NZ—or in crazy Australia? It must be the most fanatical sporting nation in the world. Within…

a silent patriarch

August 17, 2025

Having been born in 1959, I don’t remember much about the 1960s. But I have heard a lot. Hippies. Drugs. Rock ‘n Roll. Assassinations. Moon-walking. A quick trip across to ChatGPT informs me immediately that it was ‘a transformative decade across the world’—marked by the civil rights and feminist movements, Cold War tensions, consumerism and…

lyrics for living 26 (always)

August 6, 2025

Saturday was a rough ol’ day for our Amaliya. It was her birthday. She was sick—and sick enough for her birthday party to be postponed. Grandma and Grandpa popped-by later in the afternoon to give her a hug and some gifts … … and then she gave us a gift. Between taking our mouthfuls of…

four cities, twenty days, nine photos, one video

July 7, 2025

Abomey Calavi, Benin I’ve had three 50+ hour door-to-door trips by plane over the years. This was the fourth one. It was after midnight on the Saturday when I was finally able to put my head on a pillow—but not before our driver/host asked if I would preach the next morning. Yikes. Not for the…

bothwell & bethany

June 9, 2025

If saying that “Barby and I grew up together in India” is of interest to some people, then “We met before we can remember” tends to be of interest to most. The first time we met was probably in a church creche of some kind at Kellogg when I was about three and Barby was…

the catastrophe of smyrna

May 26, 2025

I have vague memories from school of a chap called Milton writing a poem called Paradise Lost. Well, this is not that Milton. Nor is this that paradise. And this sure ain’t no poem. This is Giles Milton telling the story of the ‘lost paradise’ of Smyrna (Izmir today). Here, watch some of it for…