Food for the Soul

Today is Sunday. Up early, shower, breakfast and I am waiting for Joel Joseph, a lecturer in Old Testament at New Theological College. He has invited me to go to his church beyond the southwest side of Dehradun at Jamunkhata. I have suit and tie and, most of all, my Bible—the big one that I could preach from for a lifetime if need be.
He comes 25 minutes late. He was trying to call me about the delay. I was out here enjoying the morning sun and waiting for you. No problem. “Oh, by the way, would you bring the message this morning?” Again—no problem.
You see I am experienced in these venues. I have learned, first in Romania then in Kenya that a pastor is expected to have something at his fingertips with no notice. That’s why I told Dale Brown, when he asked me how much warning I needed to fill the pulpit replied, “Fifteen seconds.” During the time it takes to walk up to the platform, I’ll have something come to mind.
As we wait for sister Debbie Sudheer (Professor of English) I begin to thumb through, coming across John 4—the woman at the well of Sychar. That will be good. On the hour ride (it’s 30 miles) I have time to jot a couple of notes on a bookmark.
At 8:45 AM the roads are sparsely dotted with walkers, bikes, scooters, cars and trucks. Surprising, since Hindus do not have a day for worship. It’s every man for himself, so to speak. Joel tells me most offices and all government installations are closed Sundays. I assume it’s a holdover from the British Raj of previous centuries.
We drive by the prestigious Military Academy, equivalent to West Point. The grounds are beautiful as I peer through the gates. Dehradun is also home to dozens of colleges and universities. Reminds me of Boston in that way.
Now the road is narrowing as we turn off to a side track. Fields of sugar cane. Mango groves. Here is the little church building on a tiny plot of land. Joel tells me that the owner of the rice fields and mango orchard to the rear is willing to sell as much land as the church wants. And they need land to move a small orphanage into the site as the building they rent further down in the town is having the rent doubled. The kids are distinguishing themselves in school exams, so there is demand for the school to grow. The new land here will be sold them at a discount. But it’s still about $50 grand an acre.
We park, slip off our shoes and go in. Two NTC grads (in the one-year ministry certificate program) have the place open already. He introduces me to one man who came out Hinduism and is an evangelist. Not by profession. He just helps people in need, prays with them. The locals respect him and he wins some to Christ. I sit up front on one of the few chairs. Around 10 people start to drift in. Singing and an opening prayer get us underway.
The men all sit on the left, women on the right. By 10:30 the young man with guitar is getting things going. Joel moves to the drum set. The volume rises, everyone clapping. There is a woman in front near the wall. Joel had told me she was a Hindu. When she converted, her husband kicked her out and her family shuns her. There is a movement going on as we speak in much of Hindu India protesting religious conversion. I guess there is freedom of religion as long as you don't change - stick with your heritage. This woman cannot carry a tune or stay on key. But there’s nothing wrong with her lungs. She is soaring off pitch to a crescendo of praise to Jesus. In a while she will be doing like jumping jacks and raising her hands. You can see Jesus is all she has. But obviously he is enough. The rest of the now 50-60 worshipers are really into it, too.
I cannot grasp a word, with the exception of "hallelujah." That word is the same everywhere in the world among Christians. But I am smiling with joy. How can you help it when you know the background of these people?
It’s after 11 now. Time for testimonies. One young woman mentioned Special Olympics and special needs as she rattled on. Some words are just grafted into a language from English. After the service she greeted me in English, so I asked her what her testimony was. She works with disadvantaged and handicapped children. She mentioned that she is praying for her Hindu family—she is the only Christian. So we paused and I prayed with her about that.
Joel told me later that another testimony was from a sharp guy about 35 who tries to help poor kids get an education. He was praising God because someone has donated a laptop to one boy, enabling him to get into a technical college.
Now it’s my turn. Joel interprets. I bring greetings from the family back home, our church, and all USA believers. Then into John 4, using one verse. (I have 30 minutes, but half of that will be Joel’s translation into Hindi.) Jesus said to the disciples, “I have food to eat you don’t know about.”
The upshot is that there are two groups Jesus is dealing with. The woman at the well, who has had a troubled life and is probably the target of gossip about town, on the one hand and the disciples—Jewish guys not at all comfortable going through this land of the heretics: Samaria. But the second class—the local people, get the blessing—coming to know that Jesus is the Messiah. The disciples are all hung up about food and why Jesus won’t eat, since they knew he was exhausted from the journey. Jesus has something that has suppressed his hunger and energized his weariness. He has gotten through the defenses of woman in need. He has the joy that comes when God turns on the light in a searching soul.
The more orthodox disciples just get annoyed about hanging around that place for another two days. So Jesus has crossed many barriers to reach us in India and the USA. We are now one in him. We belong to each other as we work for the kingdom until we sit around the table above celebrating the victory of our wonderful Savior.
This is so precious to me. The music was a bit loud for my ears. The floor was cold to my stocking feet. We were there going on three hours and I could grasp almost nothing. But I didn’t care. I was in a place where faith was real. I could feel the intensity of their attention. They wanted to thank Jesus and hear his word and pray for each other. Rough around the edges, yes. But perhaps as genuine as any worship on earth this Sunday in November.
After the congregation leaves, we go upstairs to the small apartment. There three guys have their base for ministry. Just a kitchen and couple of bedrooms. They are cooking rice—in an old-fashioned pressure cooker I haven’t seen since my childhood. A veggie sauce (dall), some chapattis, yogurt, and a plate of sliced red onions. Nice meal.
Joel asks me to pray before we go. This little congregation has already spawned several small daughter churches in the area. It’s hostile territory here. God seems to be ignoring that. PTL
So it’s back through the city. Lots of clogged roads now. Time to put a bag over mt head and just pray.
I think I understand what Jesus said in that text.
"I have food to eat that you do not know about"
Satisfied, though tired. A blessed place to be.