votretourdumonde.com
The winter sun shone down upon our little group as we stood in a semicircle around my father.
“Now,” he began, “we will go out to the villages to invite the people to the Gospel meeting this evening.”
Heads nodded and fingers gripped the precious little booklets.
“But,” he continued, “what will you say if they ask you about it? What will you say if someone asks you what Christmas is?”
A slight rustle filled in as he paused for a breath.
“Christmas means that Christ was sent. But we are not only telling them that He was sent but whyHe was sent. To really tell someone, you need to know this from your heart. If you don’t, it will not be really effective at all.”
An earnest prayer, a reminder to be back by 3:30, another reminder to hurry and get to as many houses as possible, and a patter of feet crossing the wooden plank . . . each pair set on a mission to obey the Great Commission.
For two hours we walked the dusty roads, handed out tracts, and talked to anyone who would listen. The odd thing was, no one asked me what Christmas was; they all seemed to know it was the special day of those who had set up the tent in the field. But I told them anyway, since they did not know any more than that.
An old lady was quite remarkable. She was sitting in the sun, happy to have anyone to talk to. When I invited her to the evening program, she did not hear. I shouted (almost literally), and she responded easily, “When did this religion came to be? Is it quite new? All the 70 years of my life I had not heard anything like it!”
“But, Grandmother, the God Who made the earth and sky always was. We did not know Him, but He is the One Who made us. The stone idols you worship did not make you, now, did they?”
She tried to evade my question cleverly, “Stone? Ah, no, I worship that Tulsi tree over there, they call it Narayan.”
I tried to explain, but she would not listen. Her grandchildren came near and stared at me with wide eyes, and her daughter-in-law arrived with a great load of grass on her back.
“Oh,” she said busily, “we are folk who have to work to eat. I suppose you have a job in this religion?”
Poor woman! She had no idea of the great and beautiful news of the Sent Christ which I had in my heart but felt so inadequate to explain it to her. How could I point her to Him with a few words? How would she, who sat in utter darkness, receive such a great light in a blink of an eyelash? Being at a loss of words, I handed her the tract with a short explanation and an invitation to the meeting. She accepted it with a nod and went back to her work. . .
**********
Maybe 150 or more people attended the meeting that evening. A hymn was sung, and the Gospel message was presented. Right in front of the most venerated temple in the village, God’s truth shone forth. I didn’t realize it at that time, but it was a little ironic that no one protested when our brother repeated again and again, “Idolatry is sin. Worshipping idols is sin in God’s eyes.” But, truly, they have received nothing from that idol in order to defend it, anyhow.
The meeting was closed, the final clean-up finished, and we waited in the village while the van and jeep took the other believers home. While waiting for the van to come back, we drank tea, ate leftovers from lunch, and talked with the local believers.
And I learned some new things; one of which I will mention here: The sister mentioned that when she was married and brought into her new house, she had been given a broom to worship, serve, and bow down to. A broom.
How stark the difference! How the light dispels the darkness! In the program earlier that evening, a testimonial video of one of our brother’s life had been shown, From Drugs to Christ. I whole-heartedly agree that that was amazing; who wouldn’t?
But . . . when I think about it, being saved from idols (like that broom) to Christ is just as amazing. Too often I don’t think much of it since almost everyone is saved from a Hindu background . . . but when I do think, it is wondrous.
Oh, the beauty of the Christmas message — the Son of God sent for us!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current of Thy love
Leading onward, leading homeward to Thy glorious rest above!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o’er His loved ones, died to call them all His own;
How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o’er them from the throne!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven giving rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!
— S. Trevor Francis
