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