Pondicherry, linen pants, and a prideful chicken

We have returned to Chennai for a brief time of rest after ministering in the dark, yet not hopeless places of Pondicherry. The scars and open wounds of a broken creation were easily and regularly seen in slums, leper colonies, and rebuilt fishing villages. Fishermen, like Selvam, had lost home and their livelihood (boats and nets) after the tsunami in 2004 that I had all but forgotten in my comfortable American context. Yet praises to our faithful, soon coming King fill his mouth as he pastors the church in his small village. John, my companion who continually proves himself to be a true,irreplaceable friend, has written beautifully of our time in Pondicherry, and I will not to add anything more. I rather offer this link to his post: http://onatrainfromdelhi.wordpress.com/2009/06/30/pondicherry/

The Word has indeed become flesh (John 1). My heart becomes still more convinced that apart from this living Savior, this One who felt my pain and the groaning agony of the world, there is no hope. What can man, religion, or government do to mend the shattered pieces of this world? If a personal, living God who clothed His glory in one of these self-destructive, perishable bodies and died is not the solution I know of no other.

The linen pants that I wear are now unevenly colored by stains from all over India that have settled into their fibers. Yet I pressed them this morning making the stains more permanent, and I put them on as if they were the pure white linen of the Hebrew priesthood. The same young rooster who bathed in the dust the other night was found strutting pridefully around the Asir's house when I entered in these only slightly wrinkled, substantially soiled pants. The evidence of his cleaning methods could be seen on his feathers that are still white with youth. The discolored edges contrasted with the still white under feathers that showed themselves when this creature flared out to show his authority and rule over the home in which he has been a pet for just three months. His confidence weakens however, when a rope around one legs binds him in the back hallway where he now chirps.

But this is me. Apart from Christ, the God we need most desperately, this is us. We press in stains and bathe in dirt wearing these blemishes as we continue pridefully proclaim "my" rule over "my" kingdom. The stains and dirt remain despite our strutting and attempts to make ourselves presentable. Only the mighty Savior can clothe us anew and raise our dead in sin, leprous hearts to life. The solution? We must be found in Christ, whether an impoverished Indian or rich and comfortable American, we are dead otherwise. We must be found in His righteousness not our own.We cannot wear our own blemished righteousness which we have had pressed by rules and religion. Nor can we wear a cheap piece of cotton with His face on it or a small bit of His word that has been robbed of its power by clipart and cliche. May the church of all nations be found in Christ, a branch that is nearly indistinguishable from the Source of true,abundant,eternal life.

Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for your prayers, support, or curiosity that has led you to take an interest in what God is doing in India. He has used John and I often, sometimes powerfully, sometimes simply, to love and share His gracious good news with the neglected of this country. Yet even in the midst of the action I am small and I sense the sovereign Creator is about a much greater, worldwide work that my hands and mind could never grasp.

All glory be to our great God.

John's guitar students, our after-church bike ride, and Jenini

tears, Suma, and the Gospel

Our journey has taken us from Mumbai, through Chennai and a few days with our professors Matt and Danielle to the French inspired coastal city of Pondicherry. We find ourselves cramming into buses or shared autos as we journey to slums, villages, and a leper colony by the sea. Our guide into these impoverished and dark places is a former Hindu priest named Aaron who has been transformed by the Gospel. The Lord sent 1 year old Esther, more than once, to weep over Aaron while he was reciting mantras to false, lifeless idols. The little girl shed the tears of a Father who longed for a relationship with Aaron. Esther now studies 6 standard and Aaron proclaims the gospel to hopeless, idol worshiping lepers and slum dwellers.

The Father lifted us up to share the good news in one of these slums and even to shed, His compassionate tears for these who sit in hopeless darkness. The Spirit has convinced me that Christ is truly the hope of the nations, the depraved, and the hurting like Avon Marie a 78-year-old leper lady. Marie and Suma, a fisherman who had lost his wife after only a year of marriage, listened to the Gospel. The Spirit planted deep seeds as John shared, I prayed, and Marie and Suma listened intently despite the attempts of the enemy to distract from this freeing truth. The language barrier made it difficult for us to decipher what the Spirit was, and is, doing in their hearts, but Aaron was filled with joy at Suma’s response to the good news. By God’s grace I will see the wonderfully simple man in the Kingdom clothed, as I am, with the righteousness of our dear Savior.

As the Body pray for those who have heard the Gospel that the seed would not be snatched away but that the Spirit would do a transforming work in these lives. He saves, and we simply stand in awe of this great salvation pointing out its beauty, wonder, and truth to the hopeless and lost. Continue to pray for John and I that we would be filled with compassion for others and the joy of the Lord which strengthens us to overcome every cultural frustration or discomfort. Our Father is incredibly faithful as the sunrise on my birthday reminded me. All glory to the God who has raised me from the dead to abundant life, and may that life spill out on others through the Spirit that dwells within me. Strotum

a cow, school children, and Nocil

Turbe school children & holy cow

House church in the slum of Nocil

a friend, teaching, and school kids

John and I with Bro. Dhemendra Limma after a house church meeting in the slum of Nocil.








John working hard in the classroom at Chinchpada.

(Continue to pray for us. We are not sure what we are expected to teach these children, much less how we are to teach it.)







Children at the school in Chinchpada.

(This picture was self-taken and discovered the following night as John looked through the pictures.)

slums, 7-up, and ants

Slums are real. Narrow alleys, lined by a trench of putrid water serve as the doorstep for thousands of families in this maze-like community of the impoverished. The smallest of the children walk around naked as their mothers cook lunch in a small pot held over an open flame by two bricks. A troubled little creek filled with trash and human waste weaves past homes of tin and those few that are constructed with concrete and brick.

Yet these places are filled with life. Those same naked chidren, along with their older siblings, laugh and play (and stare at white people) in these narrow alleys. Women talk together as they hand-wash brightly colored saris that accent the otherwise earth-tone environment. The main road that leads to the highway, along which you can find multi-storied office buildings, bustles with activity. In the shops that line the bumpy road people can use their hard-earned, but meager income to purchase soap, rice, sandals, spices, saris and other necessities.

John and I have been invited to follow men like Dhmendra Limma and Ponraj Abraham into these slums where they minister and, for Limma, live. Both of us have shared from the Word in prayer meetings and worship services which are just a few of the many humbling experiences. Other such occasions are praying for the healing of sister Joti whose faith in Christ seems much greater than my own and receiving a cold 7-up in the one room home of a family of six in the slum of Nocil.

These times of slum ministry are coupled with time at out temporary residence boiling water to drink, laughing, preparing for the next surprise prayer meeting that we'll be asked to share at, reading, and collecting our water into buckets at a crucial, yet undesignated time every day. We also find ourselves battling the ants we find in our bed and swarming around our Indian style toilet.

We will continue to have opportunities to preach the Gospel and pray with folks, and our interaction with the children in the slum school, with who we sang songs this morning, will increase when the school reopens tomorrow. Thank you for your prayers. The Lord is faithful.

neighbors, cricket, and fellowship

Tomorrow will be the last day, for a while, that John and I walk with Binesh down the street past our adopted neighbors, the newspaper salesman, and Hindu temple to the shop where we have tea. During our week in Chennai we have come to know many curious children on our street and been included in two cricket matches and a little soccer. For those folks we haven't met but observed from our office residence on the second floor we have given names or least noted their daily activities, whether it be delivering milk or "brooming" the street. "Calvin" often walks by barefooted and expressionless on his way to wherever a 4 four year old goes in India. He seems quite unfazed by motorists, gravel, hot pavement, and Americans.
John and I both count it a joy to have been included in this little community regardless of motivation (which I think would be curiosity when you find two Americans playing cricket with children on a street in Chennai.) We have been able to share songs and fellowship with the Word for the World staff here at the headquaters, and we have come to understand and appreciate even more these believers heart for Christ and others. We have shared with them from the Word a few times and have also discussed ways of studying God's revelation of Himself. I realize daily how different we are, yet a deep unity exists between us who have been called by the living God and share in the same Spirit.
We will return to Chennai and these wonderful people. I suspect I will get another chance to beat Jim Asir in Connect Four (which I haven't done yet, although we have played numerous times). But on Friday we fly to Mumbai and begin working in slum schools teaching, singing, and loving children.
As the blind pastor which we met today said many times "Strotum, Praise the Lord." Thank you for your prayers.