My Children

This is now my seventh teaching tour to India. I suppose that makes me a veteran. That word means the Old One. On this campus I am by far the oldest, with the venerable founder, Uncle George, a distant decade and one half behind me. So Uncle G and Dr. G, as we are called, represent the wisdom that comes from long experience. Such as it is….
Perhaps you wonder why everyone in authority here may be referred to only by his initials but always has a title of some sort. Indian tradition insists that any one with grey hair who is “somebody” has a title—doctor, pastor, professor, etc. The founder and his wife are honored with the title Uncle and Auntie. I wonder if the reason is that Uncle’s surname is Chavanikamannil—quite a mouthful. In my case, Gustafson is to their ears just weird. So it's just "Uncle" and "Dr. G."
Now—getting to the point.
I sometimes meet students who were in my classes years ago. Two of them bring joy to my heart—Kalpana, recently married, and Dalmesh recently blessed with a child. Each of them regards me as a father in the faith who added value to their education. It is very humbling to think that this poor kid from Boston could have an influence on young adults in far-away India.
I understand now why the aging apostle would four times refer to the younger generation as “my children.” Check it out in the letter of First John.
Scene One
Kalpana and her identical twin sister, Archana, were in my ethics class here five years ago. Married to Bonny a month ago, Kapu (her childhood nickname) and her handsome husband were feted last weekend here on campus, where Kalpana, being a faculty kid, had grown up since age eight.
Before leaving for their ministry in Delhi, Bonny and Kalpana came to say goodbye to Uncle G. As we chatted, she mentioned a few things that she still remembered from the ethics class. I asked her if the class had been of any benefit in real life. What could she say when set up like that? Still, her positive answer seemed sincere. Bonny is a wheeler-dealer evangelist type. He was given a few minutes for his remarks at the reception. After a minute of profuse thanks to all the family and friends, he couldn’t help but segue into an appeal. He sounded just like Billy Graham did in 1950. Passion. “Why are you here in Bible college? To get adulation? To have a secure income from a church? To please your parents? Or are you willing to die for Jesus in the villages and towns in these Christ-less hills? Close your eyes. Raise your hand if you will here and now re-commit yourself to God’s will.” That sort of thing. He was not about to lose an opportunity even in a setting where everyone is a Christian heading for ministry.
Back in Delhi he has found ways to get the message into schools and colleges and even the public square by featuring musicians. It reminded me of Soulfest. He gets a rock band into the huge malls in Delhi. Everyone gathers around for the music. Then the stars tell how they got out of drugs or whatever because Jesus rescued them. Amazing! In a place where a preacher would be clapped in jail, a “rock star” can give his testimony between sets. He has a radio talk show. This guy is a dynamo for the kingdom. And our Kalpana is there to reach out to women and girls. They are actually planting churches and starting schools for slum kids—in the style of St. Paul: "that by all means I might win some." (I Corinthians 9:22)
My time with them flew by. I asked them if it was true that they met on Facebook. Bonny blanched and was about to defend his honor when Kalpana, having sat in my classes for two weeks, just laughed and said they had been true to the Indian style of courtship—the parents are central, not the Internet.
Uncle George invited Pastor Doug and me to join a circle of prayer, laying hands on this beautiful couple and commending them to the care of our Lord as they keep laying down their lives for Him.
Yes—cast your philosophical bread upon the waters and it will come back to feed your soul later on.
Scene Two
Waiting for supper yesterday I decided to walk in the gardens here in the cool of day. The sun had just gone to its rosy-tinted bed. The moon and Mars were holding hands in the purple of gathering dusk.
I chanced on a figure walking toward me. As he drew close enough to recognize, I (miraculously) had his name come to the surface.
“Dalmesh!”
“You remember me!”
“O yes. You sat just to my left in the front row in class two years ago. I remember you well.”
The reason I recall this so vividly has to do with his story.
He was one of the first to enroll here from the caste know as Dalit. They are not perhaps the lowest of the low in India. But they are definitely among those who used to be referred to as the Untouchables.
That designation comes from the rules of the caste system. People are born into a caste on the basis of their deeds in past lives. The law of karma says you are rewarded for your good deeds and punished for your sins. Low castes are destined to serve the higher castes. If one does this without complaint, what goes around may come around in a future incarnation such that you rise to a higher level. If not, your soul could go down a notch or two. After a million cycles you might climb to the top caste, check out, and find release from the curse of re-birth.
As a result of this way of thinking people in the Brahmin priestly caste must guard their purity. They do not pollute themselves by contact with Dalits like Dalmesh. They will not deal with him. And he is required to take care lest his shadow fall on them. National Geographic had a telling article on the Untouchables of India several years ago. It will horrify you when you read it.
So Dalmesh had come to the college here to study for ministry. Christ makes no distinction of gender, ethnicity or class, as we all know—we are one in the Lord.
Do you recall how hard it was for the apostle Peter when God in a vision sent him to meet with and even eat with a non-Jew named Cornelius? Peter’s first cry was one of horror. “Not so, Lord, I have never eaten anything unclean!” But God says we are not to regard as unclean that which he has purified through Jesus Christ, the universal Savior.
Likewise Dalmesh was finding it hard to find open acceptance here. Sure, everyone is Christian. But we all carry our cultural baggage, too.
So when I was lecturing on the ethical demands of the New Testament regarding total equality in the church, Dalmesh was nodding while others shifted nervously in their seats. He added a touch of reality to our discussion. It was a teachable moment.
Other faculty later told me that Dalmesh has been completely integrated into the life of the college.
And now here in the dusk of a day in October, he beams with joy as he tells me is now married and living in the faculty block of apartments. His wife had a boy by Caesarean section and they were told not to have more kids. But they are pregnant again and trusting the Lord, the Great Physician.
The aged apostle remarked how his children have an advocate with the Father so our sins are forgiven. He warns them that the end is coming near and we should display courage under pressure. Then he shifts his term of endearment to “my friends.” He admonishes us to love one another, to guard against false prophets and false gods.
Most of us never know what effect we have on those around us. Sometimes God opens a window to us to see how seeds have grown and produced a good harvest.
Thanks be to God.