Life Changing Words Ministry

Missionary Journal

December 15, 2005

I get three days to give English pronunciation improvement. I am transported by motorcycle by Pastor Titus, who runs the bible school and acts as my interpreter. We stop and pick up grocery items that my hostess (his mother-in-law) needs and on to the school where we pick up his son, Stephen, on the way back to where Bill is at.

We have been invited to a cottage meeting at 7:30pm near here. Pastor has asked me to speak on Christian growth as all in attendance are from Hindu background and the need for these things are new to them. Bill will share on, Who is Jesus? It is really hard to tell if these people received the word. We have to walk by faith in this thing. (I miss the hunger that there is in Mulund.)

A couple married seven years asked for prayer for a baby. I gave her the scriptures to pray and speak out for the growing of her own faith. I also told her to speak and sing to the baby in her womb. Her (and her husband’s name) is Grace. They have come out of strong Hindu idol worship as they told us.

Pastor Samuel told us that there is another cottage meeting about 10-11 km from here. In checking with the pastor what group of people would be at this meeting, the topic of marriage came up. I thought this is what they wanted us to speak about, but the pastor said that there is no need, because it’s a different culture. I asked Bill about it and he said that they don’t want to change how they are treating their wives. How sad that they don’t want to know God’s words on the subject. Are they foolish virgins tied to man’s traditions? So I spoke on stewardship.

Another experience of sweet sorrow came when the classes are finished. Ashish practiced his words to say, “Thank you, we so enjoyed the teaching.” He did well. I had made them read in English as I gave the references on discipleship.

As Pastor Titus was bringing me back, we saw a girl walking, who had likely been raped and beaten, as was evidenced by her clothing and sobbing. Later, I repented for not making Pastor stop so we could minister love to her. The Lord is still working on my compassion level. They have no loving place for women to be cared for in the church here.

My next trip via auto rickshaw was with Shobi to the Bethel Christian School where she is Principal. In actuality, it is half Hindi and half English medium school using government-issue of Hindi and English books from nursery to tenth standard. There is no Christian educational training here. The Christian is in the name only. Her brother-in-law started the school and then gave it to her to oversee it. She teaches all the English, but she is not open to improve Indienglish.

Bill and I were split up on Sunday between the two churches that were once one body. Bill went with the older small group, and I was taken to the apartment that the other group met in. It is clear to me that there is a difference in the atmosphere between the two churches. One is hungry for God’s Presence and one is seemingly stubborn and empty. Please Lord, change all of us into a united body fulfilling Your purposes.

If a brief thought passed our minds of a restful train ride to New Delhi, it was not to be. In fact, it turned out to be one of our most eventful train trips ever. We were in a 3-tiered sleeper boggie again. Bill and I got the bottom bunks because of our ages. [Privilege of age?] There was a whole group of young men together. We all had put the beds into position for sleeping. It took awhile for us to get settled because these guys thought that we were in the wrong place. We had to wait for the conductor to settle the issue. Things quieted down for a little sleep, but I saw this guy on drugs come into our bunk area and look like he was calling and trying to wake up the sleeping fella in the bunk above Bill, who had fallen asleep already. The man on the third bed above me, yelled at the sleeping man, who awoke. Another man across the aisle leans up and kicks the druggie in the butt. He turns around and by this time several other young men grab him and start slapping and beating him up right in front of us. The druggie offers no resistance and apologizes, but the beating continues. They cart him off somewhere and bring him back. Twice they did this. When I see that the man is holding his eye and his hand has blood on it, I hand a baby wipe toward him. The man next to the beaten one had purchased and opened a bottle of water, took a drink and handed it to the beaten man. He told me to keep the wipe, but I motioned to the man sitting on my bunk to give for the man’s hurt eye. He gave it to him.

At this point, another man in the next compartment with his back to us across the aisle, turns toward our compartment and says in Hindi, enough, enough, enough beating, what will the foreigners think? And all the young men turned around and looked at both of us. At the next stop they threw the beaten man off the train.

For public relations, some of the young men began to talk to us using the one with the best English to sit next to me. They took turns using the appointed interpreter to ask us questions. It turns out that these young men were newly graduated police academy recruits on their way back to receive their first assignments. Scarry huh? Well not too smart, what did these 17-25 year old men learn? What was the message their commander gave to them by allowing the beating without even asking me what I saw?

During our socializing with the police cadets, the Leftienant of the India Army came by asking if we were in any distress. We said no. He asked us why we were in this boggie? Bill told him that we were informed that the second class a/c was booked and there was no room. He told us that was bad luck and said he was in the next coach if we needed him. The two army soldiers were at the other end of our boggie.

Well the police cadets got out in Bina. At 11:30pm five suspicious men got on the train. The first one carried a bundle of bedding and put it on the bunk above Bill. He said in Hindi to the other man next to him, ‘four luggage will fit in the vehicle’ as he looked at our locked bags. I knew I would not sleep, so I told Bill to give me a time to sleep and then I would let him sleep.

The leader showed up and complained that he could not have the bottom bunk and then got into the bundle of bedding placed there for him. The man who wanted our bags got in above the leader. The other man got in above me and informed the one on the top bunk across the aisle to keep an eye out on us. Two men were awake all night with me. At seven in the morning, Bill and I moved our bags to the first compartment by the door where the conductor had camped himself. He informed us that the train was four hours late, so I should just nap on the empty seat. I tried, but I was too cold. Soon others came and sat with me. In this boggie, anyone can come into your compartment during the day and sit with you.

We finally arrived in New Delhi very tired…only to find out that there are no prepaid taxis at the train station anymore. We had to pay twice the rate as what it was to go. How I want to speak Hindi fully! My desire to tell them that I want the brown price and not the white price is probably out of line from where it should be and therefore, I am being retarded from learning Hindi. Change my heart, O God.

Praise God, we are at Gene’s apartment safe and sound, ready for a good night’s sleep too. Thanks for watching over us, Dear Lord.