Joy

Today was the first day of our actual field mission.  We gathered around a breakfast much the same as the prior day but with the addition of a chickpea and tomato curry and boomba bread.  Before we actually dig into breakfast we have a short I Am Second devotional.  A great way to start the day.  Spirits were high as we were all filled with anticipation and a strong desire to actually get on with the work we came so far to do.

Our bus arrived and we loaded up.  It was about a 50-minute drive to the mission site and it took us out of the bustling cities and into farmland.  There are always people on the road and even out in the middle of nowhere there will be roadside stalls offering fresh produce, cellular phones, welding repair, or any other number of odd products and services.  I don’t believe you can drive more than two minutes without seeing some small shack of a commercial nature.

The courtyard at the school on our first field day.

On the outskirts of a small village we come to our destination, a public school complex of about four buildings, all of them open-air and only a couple with more than a dirt floor.  Our “nationals” were already waiting for us.  In missionary jargon “nationals” are those local believers that you partner with.  These include translators, lay people, and others that provide help and services for the mission.  In addition to the nationals, several of the school children were waiting for us as well.  Technically they had the day off from school so that we could use their classrooms, but they couldn’t resist coming to see the big production.

A small crowd was waiting to visit our clinic when we arrived.

People were already waiting for our clinic to open so we set about the business or organizing the medical stations and the sharing stations.  Exam areas were set-up as was a dispensary for the glasses and for the medications.  As we set up it became clear that this was education at it’s most fundamental level.  There were no desks, but rather a collection of crude wooden benches of various heights.  The floor is not paved at all and instead offers an uneven surface of very hard-packed earth.  No whiteboard, no projectors, no bulletin boards.  Not even a chalkboard was to be found.

This is a tribal area of India and Christianity has had some success here.  Tribal people are generally considered so low that they do not even have a caste.  In Indian society they are the lowest of the low.  They aren’t received by anyone in Indian society and so they are very receptive to the message that God loves them.  Taking all this into account, it was not too surprising that a lot of the people we ministered to today were already Christians, mainly Baptist with a few Catholic’s thrown in.  The remainder of the people we encountered were Hindu or professed no real religion.

While sharing with fellow Christians wasn’t exactly what I had expected, it was no less fulfilling.  To walk the streets of India is, to me, an image of hell.  The vast majority of the people you meet on the street do not smile at you as you pass.  I’m not sure they smile at all.  There is almost no spontaneous joy to be found.  Misery, toil, and filth are overwhelmingly present.  There is not even the sniff of hope in the air.  It is difficult to describe the despair and darkness that is so present here.  It is how Satan would have us live.  This overwhelming oppression of the spirit is why the time interacting with Indian Christians is so revealing.

Three beautiful Assamese believers.  Unfortunately I caught them between smiles.

As a whole, the Christians we met were simple people.  Most could not read or could read very little.  Their possessions are not much more than what they have on their backs and some cooking utensils at their home.  The very basic occupation of simply surviving is their career path.  But their warmth of spirit and contagious joy is in such contrast to everyone else that you see and interact with on the streets of India.  These people smile readily and their smiles are so genuine and warm. They share with you and are completely open with their faith.  We pray together and I’m moved several times to the point of holding back tears brought on by the beauty of their spirit and it’s incredible light in this place of so much darkness.  It is an amazing reminder of something we tend to forget in Americanized faith:  the simple joy of salvation and the knowledge that God loves us.  It is, as Philippians 4:7 states “…….the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding……….” 

I am like most people.  I fill my mind with things like wondering whether my first meal on American soil will be bacon and eggs or a steak.  I concern myself with whether the wi-fi will be up at the hotel.  I’m kind of digging this little laptop that was loaned to me for the trip and think I should consider buying one.  Or maybe an iPad.  I would like to spend the money to fix up my pick-up to something near the condition it was 170,000 miles ago.  I'd like to spend some more time riding my motorcycle.

But these types of thoughts that are common to most of us remind me of how selfish and ungrateful I am.  I have so many blessings, more than I can ever think to count.  And sitting before me, time after time, are these very poor, mistreated Christians with no opportunity before them on this earth and with great concern as to whether they will have a meal today.  And they pour out a joy in God that fills the room entire room and my heart.  It is enough for them.  It should be enough for me.

My Indian friends have so much to teach me.