Church

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart. – Jeremiah 29:12-13

 

I have been debating what I want to write about today. I have been out of town for 2 days visiting a school about four hours away. This was quite an experience, through which I learned quite a bit. When I got back in town I met a 24-year-old man name Clifton who is co-directing, with his mother, an orphanage on the border between Nepal and India in the Himalayas that his grandfather opened sometime in the 1940’s. He came in town to get a few things for his orphanage and wanted some company so I went out with him.

 

But what I want to talk about is the universatility of human experience. That is, the power of a personal testimony in any given venue or context and the situation through which many of these situations occur, at least in my own personal experience.

 

Today is Sunday, and I was able to go to a Christian church this morning. The characteristics that define Christian worship in India are an extremely peculiar and fascinating thing. Something I could write another blog entry on, and may in the future. In all, the service lasted close to 2 and a half hours. And when the majority of the service is in a foreign tongue (although the sermon was translated), the ability to keep focus, much less interest, quickly fades. Above that, the service was held in a small underground room with no air conditioning so that there was no circulation of fresh air. However, this may have been an advantage considering access to fresh air meant access to 100-degree weather. So, which of these was lesser evil is another debate for another blog entry. I realize, I may be sounding long-winded at this point, but the reason for the details is to highlight, and hopefully move you to sympathize, my desire to return to my Delhi home furnished with couches, air conditioning, and plenty of English. 

 

So when I heard there was a fellowship following the service, it would be an understatement to say I was disappointed. Isn’t it interesting that these are the moments through which God so often chooses to use his people? At least this is my experience. When I am tired, hot and sweaty, hungry, and inwardly upset the pastor of the church for his extreme hospitality God chooses to bring opportunities for ministry and His glory.

 

One of the leaders of a team here named Joe sat next to me, and next to him an Indian woman named Amarjit. Joe is fluent in Hindi, and immediately started speaking to this woman. It turns out though, that this woman was fluent in English and insisted in speaking in our native language. With that, I was engaged in the conversation, at this point unwillingly. She had told us about how she had come to know Christ, the nature of being a Christian in a Hindu society,  and the effects it has had on their life, along her struggle with cancer. She was well acquainted with persecution and hardship. As the conversation was coming to an end, or so we thought, we told her we would be praying for her. Her reply, “No, no my family here does not need prayer. We all are Christians. My daughter Rajita, who is living in Dallas, she is not a Christian and she too has cancer.” She told us some details of her daughter’s situation and of her struggle, in which Joe replied empathizing with her because he has a brother who does not know Jesus. These two talked for quite some time exchanging details of each one of their stories and hopes. While this was occurring, I kept thinking to myself that I had a similar story of my own, but mine had a distinct difference: my story was complete, and it had ended with an answered and fulfilled hope.

 

This is the story of my grandfather, who passed away less than a month ago. Upon hearing of his cancer, about two months before his death, I was deeply moved. Moved by the power and inconsideration of death on all men, yes. But mostly on the undeniable sorrow when this is coupled with a man who had not internalized the unspeakable power and victory of faith in the grace of Jesus Christ. I told them that when I heard of Grandpa Jimmy’s cancer and my complete lack of assurance of his fate upon his eventual death, I was broken and at a loss of what my role, if any, in this situation should be. I decided to do the only thing I could do, go to God. I decided to fast and pray every Tuesday for his salvation. This was something done in secret, kept personal between God and me. I had never done anything like this before either, so I did not know what to expect.

 

I called my parents on Tuesday, April 15^th and was told that my grandpa had accepted Jesus Christ. This was the last Tuesday my grandpa was alive. When I got off the phone, my eyes were filled with tears, and my heart was moved in a profound way. God is incredibly faithful when His people pray. God inclined and heard my cry, answering with faithfulness and graciousness I will never grasp, nor could I ever express proper gratitude for. What a limited sacrifice for such an incredible and immediate answer!

 

When I was done telling this to the woman and Joe, I looked into the woman’s pained eyes and she expressed her deep gratitude for my story. I could see that she was close to brokenness at this point, as she praised God for the outcome of my story. She asked if I would pray for Rajita, her daughter. I affirmed her request, but went further, asking if we could start at that very moment. So in the middle of this fellowship, Joe, Amarjit and I bowed our heads and closed our eyes seeking God’s faithfulness in yet another hopeless situation. I could hear the woman’s earnestness and pain in the way she quietly affirmed the prayer. As I said amen, I looked up into the same eyes as earlier, filled with brokenness, yet containing thankfulness. Joe was not as strong, he put his arm around me and with tears in his eyes exhorted, telling me that I must tell this story as often as possible. That it is a story people need to hear.

 

So forgive me for taking up so much space, but I agree with Joe.