India 2015

It was hot, hot, hot all the way this time round .  The heat got to us all. We were bathing in sweat at every venture out into the villages and house churches. My last visit to this  state of India was in 2011( read here)  What a difference it was then, compared to now. No more open air huge rallies, now we could only minister in confined quarters of people's homes or schools. Confined is really confined. Their houses are so small. We found ourselves sitting on people's beds most of the time whilst waiting for this or that. The beds were hard wooden ones, with just a sliver of a mattress (if it can be called that), they filled the entire room. Cooking was done either open air style using firewood or on small cement tops using gas stoves. Most of the time, there wasn't even space for a sink - the bathroom was used for everything that needed washing.

Some things remain the same in India - the poverty, the dust, the dirt.  It was a test of endurance, even for me, whose standard of cleanliness is very much less than perfect.   Apparently  the pastor had not expected 3 ladies to be landed onto him.  So he was quite flustered especially since this was his first time taking charge of foreigners. On top of accommodation problems, he was worried about our safety, as we were deep in hostile territory. One of the districts we went to was a known 'cowboy' town, where violence is the norm. And indeed we felt the negatives vibes immediately. I am used to being started at in India. But these stares were different; they were rudely aggressive. Still we had come to minister, so minister we did, and we thank God for His protection all the way.


The congregations were small, but very warm and hospitable to us. From the little the hosts had, they freely shared, even if it was just a cup of tea and a plate of snacks. The pastors' wives were especially kind, taking the trouble to cook the daily main meals for us.

Every missions trip brings about different revelation for me. This one took me back to the basics, the heart of things. Once again I realize how blessed I am. On that first nite when we had to settle for a dark dingy motel-like room with a toilet that even I had trouble adjusting to, I was reminded the price Jesus paid for my soul. He didn't endure a filthy washroom; He endured death for me. So what's a dirty toilet compared to what Jesus did to prove His love for all mankind? Actually nothing could compare to that; no sacrifice can ever match His.



And as I sweated it out  at every session,  I was humbled by the people who turned up. The spaces were so tight, they were packed body to body. We were given chairs, they sat on dust-caked floors. How much more they suffered than us.  So what cause do we have to complain of discomfort?  We 'touch-n-go' home to our comparatively spacious air con mansions, clean bathrooms, piped water and comfy  beds  in M'sia. The poorest of them still live in huts. Even their brick houses are no more than small cubby holes.  Our children get the best of food, health care, education and all things material. Many of theirs run around naked or in tattered clothes, have bad skin eruptions, don't go to school or drop out.  How can anyone not be moved?

I don't have money or resources to help any of them. The only thing I have is hope; hope in a God who is light in the midst of darkness, who promises not to make problems disappear, but to take us through them. Government, politicians, NGOs, can only do so much. But they can never give hope the way a living God can. After all if  Jesus conquered death, nothing in this earthly life can get a believer down. And these people know it. It's evident as they come forward in simple faith  to be prayed over; they jabber away about their problems, although I don't understand a  word, but I do know how to pray from the heart.  One woman simply burst into tears standing in front of me. I offer her my shoulder and the peace of God. They come bringing bottles of water and oil for us to pray over; some tangible thing that connects them to the power of a divine God who heals.  And I am the one who goes away blessed, because they give meaning to the words of Apostle James, "Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?" (James 2:5)

The atheist mocks such 'useless' stuff because he isn't aware of or doesn't want to admit his need. Only the desperate know how to seek  - and find God.

"And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him" - Hebrews 11:6

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