Early start this morning. Rice and fried batter cakes with ghee and sour sauce and samba for breakfast, and while Merv is readying himself to preach in a local church, I am off to Job Sudarshan's brethren congregation on the back of a scary motorcycle.
Watching the traffic from the back of a car is frightening enough, but to be perched on the back of one of those mobile deathtraps laughingly called motorbikes without a helmet or any regard for others on the road is an experience I wouldn't choose to repeat. By the time I dismounted, the brother in front of me had ten wounds on his sides shaped strangely like fingers, while I expect the cramp casued by my vice-like grip to last several days.
Once I gathered the courage to actually open my eyes, there was so much to see on the way to preach. People everywhere washing clothes in a river that is little better than an open sewer. Families living at riverside in wooden lean-to shelters, men pooping at the roadside while people just walk by. A woman with one leg scooting along on an Eddie Murphy type cart. Amazing.
Preached to a house church of about 60 people. Two years ago there was no church here - God has raised up a body of baby believers in no time through the faithful preaching of two men. How humbling. We had communion during the service using chapatis and some... stuff. It certainly wasn't WHBC bread and grape juice! It reminded me of John Paton using yams and milk when he began to minister in the New Hebrides - the elements are of less importance than the symbols they are seeking to portray.
After an hour's preaching, I was shuttled off again to Brother Devraj's church of 300+. They had started at 11am and when I got there at 11.45 I was straight on. This service ended after 2pm, when we had lunch at church. Several homeless folk live at the church, sleeping on rattan mats - they stayed around along with a good few others for what they described as a love feast. You guessed it - more curry!
Rest of the afternoon until 5pm was fellowship with our hosts, when we were invited out for more dodgy-looking curry made and eaten with grubby but godly fingers. This family had a prayerfulness that was sobering - their thanksgiving and time of prayer was done in stumbling English for our benefit, yet was fluent and very real. They had many theological questions to ask, and we left only just in time to get to the next service.
Evening meeting was in a small village with the poorest shanty housing I have ever seen even on television. I am aware that I have taken no photographs yet, but I feel so ashamed as a Westerner with a camera intruding into the abject poverty of real people's lives that I can't bring myself to do it. The people here haven't eaten yet today, because the rice and vegetables have been brought by us, and we have only just arrived at 8pm. Some stringy meat and fruit has been saved to share with us, and the rice that they would have eaten looks so manky. Even the rice that has been brought by the brothers with Pastor Devraj looks as though it could well be laden with every bacteria known to man and a few more thrown in. Dysentry City.The love feast after the meeting saw the brethren eating their rice and curry from big green banana leaves on the floor. In their lack, they served us first and with the finest of their poor meal. How humbling. Praying over food has taken on a whole new dimension - not only because we it could be so unhygienic, but because we have so much. They have so little, but give so generously.
They are so grateful for the ministry and form huge lines to be prayed for by Merv and I. I am a little uncomfortable with that, but until I can assess my feelings properly I am prepared to bow to my Indian brethren who are encouraging me to comply. We prayed with various people for over two hours. Spiritual realities and spiritual warfare are suddenly taking on fresh significance. Coming here has been hard, but I am certain it was right.
Perhaps the strongest impression from today has been the sight of these Indian brothers and sisters singing with real joy on their faces. Culturally it is another world - their worship is vibrant, noisy, filled with much clapping and deafening drumming, but all of it is the singing of texts taken directly from the Scriptures. Scripture in Song Telegu style! Wish Peter Masters or Vernon Higham were here... More on that on another occasion I guess.
Text from Bo has just arrived and cheered me up! I miss my kids sooo much!! Need sleep now. Bye.