Wednesday, April 25, 2007


"And they returned telling Him all of their adventures and He said, come away with me to a quiet place." Mark 6:30-31

We are on our way home, the last flight of a forty-three hour journey. As V and I got comfortable in our exit row seats and once again began pulling out all of our "traveling well" paraphernalia (reading material, pillows, blankets, eye mask & snacks) I remarked about my noise reduction headphones. "I don't leave home without them." I said, as I urged her to give them a try. I would turn the switch on then off, then on then off, so she could fully appreciate their "noise" cancelling properties. Loudly she said, "I just don't get how they work, what does it do?"

Offering the best and smartest sounding non-scientist advice, I explained the principle of "white noise", a sound produced at such a decibel it cancels out the steady and annoying drone of the airplane engine. A noise that is not really a noise - something probably like a dog whistle. She laughed saying "after 25 years as an airline attendant I guess I've learned to cancel that noise out on my own."

Here I sit, not so badly folded into my airline seat, "noise reduction" headphones secured and singing soft gentle waves into my parched and weary soul. The sound of the airplane engines a distant drone in the background of my self-created environment. It is not quiet but it is calming.

I know my temporary bodily discomfort (24 flying hours, 14 layover hours - the taxi in between) will soon enough come to an end. It will be over...

My body will not be in motion with Sir Isaac Newton's law, but powered under my own volition. My episode with food poisoning is gurgling its last toxins out of my system, my travel dehydration can be slaked with clean, easy and accessible water drawn straight from the tap. The sleep deprivation of the last few days will only require one or two nights stretched out, covered up and cuddled by my down pillows and feather bed.

A dish concocted sans curry will be no problem as 5 grocery stores are within one mile of my house, not to mention the plethora of restaurants providing a variety of cuisines should I desire something other than a good old-fashioned cheeseburger and milkshake - or an enchilada or two.

The impact of the trauma - well that's another thing entirely. Since the event we have had our share of reprieves, and been able to create a facsimile of normal to get us through. Our hotel room had HBO and Star World movies which gave us topics of "have you seen this or that movie" to random discussions of various actors and their antics (V was totally unaware Paramount cancelled their contract with Tom Cruise). And we had plenty of laughter as well - to lighten the gravity of our circumstance - virtual hostages in our hotel.

We could not for the life of us figure out how "Toast-Butter-Jam" could come to our room in various states of smashed, burned, stale or crustless (like I like it). We would laugh when room service would ask for our room number because there was no doubt we were not only the only white people at the hotel, we were the only English speaking with women who were ordering room service on a consistent basis with the exact same food items for every meal: Breakfast - Toast-butter-jam and coffee - four bottles of mineral water; Lunch - Indian Bread, one tomato soup and one sweet corn soup; Dinner - the same with an added bowl of rice and fresh lime soda with salt. the staff became so familiar in the end with the simplicity and sameness of our order - they began serving it in courses; first knock four bottles of water, second knock lime soda, third knock soup, fourth knock the signing of the check and pick up of the dishes. I think they were trying to break up our obvious monotony, which blessed us with comedic relief.

We laughed, but then...

we cried.

Thankfully we took turns doing so as remembrance of what happened would wash over us like a wave, and our tears would flow with the "whys?" The room would seem silent then as one or the other of our sadness acted as the "noise cancelling" to what was going on around us.

In the streets below a constant cacophony of blaring horns, traffic sounds, tires, brakes, the occasional toot that had been transformed into a musical encore signaling "get out of my way". We could always tell what time it was in the darkness of night by how many horns, beeps and blares were still in conversation on the street running under our hotel window. If perchance you had to get up in the night and heard nothing, you knew it was too early to actually wake up, because the silence signified the dead of night (3:30 - 4:30 am) and the only hour when falling back to sleep wouldn't require ear plugs.

There was always the "noise".

There were lots of sounds that made us smile to be sure:

The children at the orphanage shouting "Auntie, Auntie, Auntie" in warm recognition of our return.

Listening to them count in their local language the number of times they were able to jump rope before missing the beat.

Their laughter when they saw a "trick" they didn't understand.

The village children's applause when I made the interpreter translate the "crying".

The worship of the locals singing "Yesu, Yesu" on a village rooftop with lightning flashing in the night sky.

Sister J's childlike giggle as we complimented her on her cooking, our her outfit, or our joining ranks with her to get Pastor P to eat his vegetables.

The transformed sound of Pastor P's quiet gentle voice and mannerisms turn into a fiery round of praise, adoration and admonition to his missionaries like a General preparing his troops for battle. Always ending "In the Name of Jesus."

The sound of A's laughter as he told jokes no one but he could understand and just enjoying something even that got lost in the translation.

The interpreted comments of thanksgiving from the 45 who attended the Pastor's seminar. "Thank you for bringing us these tools. Now I can witness to my neighbor who just asked me to pray for her sickness. You taught me about the battlefield. I used to think Satan was my only enemy, know I know I have 33 million enemies. Thank you to A for showing us Christ-like leadership qualities we should have."

The village man's invitation to his house for tea, biscuits and a blessing for his family.

The shouts of all as they waved goodbye.

On airplanes I may need noise canceling headphones to help me forget I am trapped in a flying tube for 10 or more hours, but God has given me His noise canceling mechanism for life. It is those sounds of India, and the sound of two sister saints in the field, reading back and forth prayers coming in from around the world, from people we didn't even know who had heard of the battle. Through tears and deep breaths of humility and praise -

The sound of breaking glass is becoming a faint remembrance.

His praise is still loud and proclaimed!

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Choosing to be Chosen

“Choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods of your ancestors... of those… in whose land you dwell – but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” Joshua 24:15

During the Pastor’s Training seminar I closed my “Jericho Wall” session with Joshua’s inditement to the nation of Israel. It is easier coming from a Christianized culture to openly confess we are “choosing” God, because after all we have the slogan stamped on the money we have come to worship. And although here in India there are millions of gods openly deified, I explained the American “idols” are hidden in things like toothpaste that guarantees happiness, perfume that promises love, and programs for perfect bodies. We are bombarded by an arsenal of advertising luring our trust away from the truth. The truth of where the source of our happiness lies, into believing the lie of the magic elixir that will fix us and find us all that will satisfy and satiate our desires.

Christ is very specific in His part of the “choosing”:
“You have not chosen me, but I chose you and ordained you that you should go and bring forth fruit.” John 15:16

These were words spoken during the lat meal He would share with His friends, and as we set off on an early spring morning in April to the Gokak Children’s Festival, we were praying for a huge harvest!

When Pastor P arrived at the hotel we were a bit discouraged facing the discomfort of riding three hours with three people crammed in the back seat. As we prayed (once again that peril) and adjusted and readjusted ourselves and our old (V & I) bodies we did find things to make us laugh. A2 got giddy about half way through the journey and began telling silly jokes and laughing at himself. We kept reminding him not to distract our driver – least … well you know - the road or the bus or the passing cow escape his view and create a not so funny situation. About 30 minutes outside Hubli on the straight-a-way road, Pastor picked up speed and then suddenly pulled off the road. We were puzzled, but P’s instinct was right and we had a flat tire. Out came all 200 pounds of luggage from the trunk to access the spare tire. Passing taxis, scooters and bikes all honked and added to our humiliation, standing there on the side of the road – bags piled high, white skin and blond hair shining like a beacon to identify our foreignness.

We got back in the car and praised God, realizing our predicament could have resulted in a blow out or worse. The tire incident was only a minor inconvenience. We finally arrived in Gokak and pulled up to the same hotel we stayed at in November. We were surprised by the abundance and beauty of floral decorations surrounding the outside of the entrance. As it turned out, the owner’s son was getting married that day. Many people were arriving at the same time we did, and being welcomed by a four piece brass band added an amusing soundtrack to our arrival.

We got our bags up to the room and regrouped. We stretched our folded aching bodies realizing our age once again and the gravity that sets itself against us as the years pass. We gathered our cut twine, extra scissors and set off for the conference center where the children were already waiting.

This was a new location, down a crowded street filled with people and cars. The building was newer and nicer, and we were greeted by children who were waiting for our arrival. They quickly grabbed our hands, gave the familiar greeting, “Auntie, Auntie” and led us up to where the rest of the group was gathered.

We were seated in front of a large multi-paned window that allowed the sunlight to illuminate the bright cloth adorning the girls. Many of them wore jasmine garlands in their hair, and the fragrance was intoxicating. As the performances began, I took my seat among the children to try and get better video, not to mention the camaraderie of rubbing shoulders, toes and feet. The little girls were painted with glitter and dots above their eyebrows, dressed in beautiful saris and anxious to perform. One by one the acts marched in and sang and danced a variety of praise and worship numbers. Of course we didn’t understand it but their costumes and dramas were great. One group had fashioned jungle costumes from branches and painted their faces as comical garish wild men. They motioned for me to join the play, put vine garlands on my head and then feigned a beating to which I dutifully fell down on the floor. I could see V and A2 laughing hysterically as one of the workers interpreted the meaning of the show. As soon as it was over, I rose from the dead, sat down and asked “what was that all about?” V explained it was “Kill the Missionary”, and then of course the villagers get saved by the next persistent spreader of the Word; a prophetic drama to the soon unfolding events.

Next, a group of four flowered and bejeweled girls came up to sing and dance. As they finished their performance and set their microphones down we applauded as things suddenly took a dramatic and irreversible turn for the worse.

“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that He will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many." 2 Cor 1:8-11

From our vantage point facing the crowd, to our left was the entryway staircase and doorway. We could see young men pushing past the workers in a strange and aggressive manner. Then “all hell broke loose”. They began kicking things, throwing chairs, tossing the table upside down. They picked up the amplifiers and tossed them into the air. They broke legs off the tables and chairs and began beating A2 with them. V and I were backed into the corner as they began to throw chairs at us. They continued mercilessly attacking A2, assuming he was Indian. He ran out the door in an effort to escape and suddenly it seemed as if we were in the hall all alone with only the two nephews of Pastor P.

We ran to the back of the hall, and into a bathroom and locked the door. We held the boys hands tightly as they cried and tried to keep them quiet. We knew if we were discovered there would be no chance for escape – we were cornered. We began praying only simple prayers as quietly as we could. “Thank you Jesus. Help us Jesus. Dear, dear Jesus, we are with you we have nothing to fear.”

Outside the door in the conference hall – we heard the attackers return, searching for things to destroy. We listened while the glass of the windows broke across the now empty floor. And then silence. We continued to wait and pray and hold the shaking boys in an effort to spot ourselves from shaking. Suddenly, the door shook as someone tried to open it. Fear gripped our hearts, thinking we were discovered, but the boys listened to the Hindi voices and recognized that of their father. We opened the door and asked where A2 was – to hear his voice come reassuringly from the locked bathroom next to ours was a great relief.

S, (Pastor P’s brother) hurriedly explained how we were to make our escape. A large angry mob had gathered around both exits of the building so we would go up and over the roof and into the adjoining hotel until we could exit safely. We ran up and over the rooftop and down the staircase into the hotel. Solomon thought we were staying there for the evening, but we weren’t and couldn’t even think of the name of our hotel. I offered my description (there is a waterfall) and the fact the owner’s son was getting married today. How many hotels could fit that description was not the issue, how we were going to get there safely was.

We sat on the couches, trying to compose ourselves with one of the missionaries, his wife and the two boys. They spoke fairly good English, despite their youth and began telling of the last time this happened. As it turned out they were also present when the villagers attacked in December. I encouraged them saying, “God will make you great and mighty men, if He has trusted you as children to endure such hardship.” They smiled, but they were still shaking.

After an eternity of moments and minutes, S returned and motioned for us to come quickly to a waiting rickshaw. We made our way through the throngs of people gathered in front of the building but we felt very visible and very vulnerable. The curious bystanders peered in at the white foreigners wondering what part we had played in what had just taken place.

For once the hazardous driving and weaving through traffic was a relief. We were out of immediate danger, but did not know anything that was going on. We were told A2 and Pastor P were being taken to the hospital, but we did not know the extent of their injuries. The atmosphere we entered at the hotel (the ongoing wedding reception) was a far cry from the violence we left behind. The guest looked at us with strange curiosity as we were again obviously not part of their celebration. S escorted us to our rooms and said. “Don’t open the door for anyone, and do not leave.”

The door to the room closed, we slid the latch to secure it and quietly fell to pieces.

There was no sense to be made of what happened. There was no explanation of for the violence and destruction these young men came and wrought. With each utterance, “the children” “A2” “Pastor P” “the children” “the boys”, more tears fell. And then we praised the God we serve for finding us worthy to enter into a small part of the persecution of the church. We praised Him for protecting us from harm even though evil threatened us with such senseless violence. We praised Him the children had escaped. We praised Him because He is worthy to be praised.

After several hours and a chance to regain our composure, we took the advice given to Elijah and ate to strengthen ourselves for the journey ahead.

Sister J (P’s wife) and another of the women came to the door. We embraced and corporately wept and praised together. Sister J was in the conference hall watching and yelling at the men from the sidelines while they attacked. From her vantage point, she saw us being hit and was frightened for our condition. We assured her nothing had touched us. Through her tears she replied, “Are you sure? I saw them striking and throwing the chairs.” It seemed the unseen angels he has set charge over us took the blows.

“For He will give His angels orders concerning you, to protect you in all your ways. They will support you with their hands..” Psalm 91:11-12

We knew A2 had borne the blows for us as well. He stood between us and the attackers and when we were backed into the corner, he ran from the hall taking the aggressors with him. It made the truth of Christ “bearing the iniquity of our sin” and “by His stripes we are healed” more of a tangible reality. Little by little information on what took place came to us through the broken English and broken hearts of the two women who now sat with us side by side, sobbing but always ending their phrases with “thank you Jesus.”

“Sing to the LORD, you saints of his; praise His holy Name … His favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:4-5

Around fifty young men (age 17-25) were responsible for the attack. When we arrived, we noticed some of them at the back of the room but assumed they were there to help us with the program. As we were hurriedly taking Polaroid film out of the boxes V said, “this is going to be chaos” and I said “no, look in the back at all the people here to help.” She was right for the wrong reason (it was chaos) I was just wrong.

The attack had been planned far in advance given the publicity of the event (a Children’s Festival) among the village communities. They were angered at the “forced conversion” of the children. Their intent was to destroy; the enemy’s to stop the advance of the Kingdom. Destruction was certainly wrought this day, but the saints and the Kingdom go marching on. P and A2 were not the only ones beaten. One of the van drivers suffered the most severe injuries as well as the owner of the conference hall, who appeared to see what was happening and insisted they stop. This only turned the violence to him and his son.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” Matthew 5:10-12

Once the police arrived, four of the attackers were arrested, but charges were also filed against P, who told the officers he alone would be responsible. “This is my job, I am a Pastor, I am in the conversion business.” Forced conversion is one thing, but the financial responsibilities of the damage of the hall as well as the immediate financial burden to repair the damage to his vehicle (identified by the Thank you Jesus on the windshield) and the orphanage bus that bore the cross as well as the word “Christian” are Pastor P’s.

The men also grabbed three of the women workers, threw them in a vehicle and drove them to the police station to be arrested on the “forced conversion” charge. However, in the process they made lewd remarks as well as assaulting them in a sexual manner which is a punishable offense in this society.

We listened intently to all that happened that we didn’t see or know about fully realizing the Lord saw it all and allowed it. Later, as Pastor P came in praising God, he assured us, “Satan asked the Lord if he could interrupt this meeting today. The Lord said “sure take your few minutes”. But God was never out of control. So many miracles happened” he said. “Only a few moments before the attack I sent my son and the head Pastor in charge to go and get another sound system because this one was so bad – so you see God let the devil have the bad one, but spared my son and the other Pastor a beating, for surely my son would have intervened while I was being beaten and would have gotten it worse because he is young. About four days before the conference, I called the organizer and said I want no chairs in the hall; the children will be better sitting on the floor. Can you imagine what would have happened if there were chairs? The children would have been falling over them to get out and the enemy would have that much more to destroy!” He went on to say at the beginning of the meeting he noticed a new cricket bat being passed back into the hall. He couldn’t figure out what it was doing there, but assumed it was one of the children’s. The men had brought it in to do the damage, both physical a well as material. Yet at the time of the attack, the bat had disappeared. We were very aware of how much worse it could have been. The children were ushered out of the hall quickly (with no obstruction of chairs) none were injured in their flight to safety, and the children that did not go directly to the bus stop, ran to the neighboring Pastor’s house and sought sanctuary there.

Around 9:00 pm S and his sons arrived and he said, “Let’s go – we must leave the city immediately, the incident is all over the news and on the television. The police are afraid of more violence, because two of the men were Muslims.” We grabbed our belongings, packed luggage and moved quickly through the hallways surrounded by the missionaries and we knew “the Almighty”!

A uniformed police officer armed with a club fashioned form sugarcane, rode in the front seat of the van with us until we were 10 miles outside of town. Once again, the speed of the driver seemed a blessing and a reason more for praise than the typical fervent prayer for safety. The vehicle was taking us away from the harm we were facing as the darkness of the night shielded us from our unseen enemy.

We arrived back in Hubli close to midnight, checked back into the same hotel, collapsed on a familiar bed under the comfort of cool air-conditioning and cried.

“Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy. Though one goes along weeping carrying the bag of seed, he will surely come back with shouts of joy, carrying his sheaves.” Psalm 126:5-6

Friday, April 20, 2007

Let the Children Come

"...but Jesus said, "Let the little children come unto Me...'"

The numbers have scared us. When V and I were thinking about the crafts (bracelets and Polaroids) as well as having dealth with the Pom Pom disaster - the challenge of a small room, one hundred seated children and us - was a bit overwhelming.

Some of the children were familiar faces I had seen in November, but many were new. There were quite a few really young ones, grinning at us from ear to ear. We tried to take as many photos as we could without causing too much chaos among the crowd with pleadings of "Auntie, Auntie, take on of me!" (indicated with hand motions, sorrowful eyes, pursed lips and then a big grin as they held up their index finger to signify "just one").

They laughed at the tricks and were fairly orderly with the Polaroids - out of all the children there was only one "crier" who refused to have his photo made in spite of his big sister's consistent appeals.

After lunch we had time for bracelets (another challenge) and gave prizes to the children who could hsare the meaning of all the beads ontheir wrists. We left them knowing they took away more than a temporary bangle and photo. They took a seed sown deep into their hearts with joy and watered with love.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Shelter in the Storm

Pastor P was a little late picking us up for the night village meeting. We had a few hours to rest, but our rest, made us restless. As we set off into the night, the rain began.

The backseat passengers (V, A & I) had to close our eyes, hold our breath and continue to pray for the perilous driving. The dark obscured people, cars without lights, and the varying pedestrians who would step into the roadway to make their way out of the rain.

We arrived at the turn off to the village, but the van was waiting to tell us the rain made the road impassible and we would need to take an alternate route. Through the back roads we encountered a variety of ox driven carts, goat herds and people making their way to and from, in the mud and muck for what reasons we could not imagine.

By the time we reached the village it was a full downpour. Pastor P had us wait in the car as they located a place for us to set up for the meeting. The crowd filled the one lane street, with heads covered by plastic bags, or whatever else would deflect the falling rain. After 15 minutes we were summoned as the location was prepared. We walked as quickly as our feet could slide across the muddy roadway, without falling, straight to the village Hindu temple.

There were no doors just a covered area with icons, painting, floral garlands and such, paying homage to the local monkey god. we were given chairs to sit on directly under the icons, which was disconcerting, but also empowering to proclaim the truth in a place designed by a lie.

Fifty or sixty children had crowded in, right underneath the platform and the adults stood gathering in behind them. We could see even the people across the street watching intently at who we were and what we were going to do and say.

The rain mercifully ended and many more adults gathered at the outskirts of the building to hear what was happening. Then missionaries began by singing their standard "Santo, shaloo koo tay" which tanslates "Happiness is bubbling up inside me because of Jesus." they sang and praised and the people watched.

I saw one of the children seated join in the chorus only to be smacked by his friend in the head. After Pastor P prayed, claiming the power of Jesus - I began. I shared the coloring book, the ropes, the Rainbow bag and story, using one of the orphanage home girls who had come with us.

The audience was responsive, laughing, and having a good time. V followed up with testimony and a clear presentation of the Gospel. A closed by praying for many of the young men who had come forward and A wept openly as he prayed for their deliverance.

As we closed one of the young men invited us into his house for tea and biscuits as a show of hospitality and thanks. V and I both remarked it was an occurrence that would never happen in America - spontaneously inviting 30 people into your home for tea!

As we finished, the young man asked for prayer and blessing for his family. He presented his mother-in-law, wife, children and finally himself. While asking for blessing is cultural here, the Name above the 33 million no-gods was proclaimed in the village, in the household and we left rejoicing in The Way.

Master, Say On

"Jesus, answering said unto him, "Simon, I have something to say unto thee." And he said, 'Master, say on.'" Luke 8:40

We prepared as much as we could for the days events. V has prepared to share the "Flips" and the "Flipper-Flappers", the Roman Road and other evangelism.

We arrived and were greeted warmly as well as with a sign with our photo and the official title of the event, "Pastor and Leadership Training". I began the morning with the "Jericho Walls," using the story of Joshua being told to be "strong and courageous." I used the army illustration much to the delight of Pastor P. V then presented the "Flips" created by Peter Kashung. They were thrilled. A did a presentation on Mark 6, and the point really hit home to me when Jesus told His disciples to take a rest. I think I will plan a rest upon this return.

After our lunch break we had a question and answer time. It took a while for them to open up, but little by little they did. The first woman to stand said she could now share the Gospel with her neighbors who she recently prayed for and who experienced healing after her prayers.

One of the men stood and said regarding the army men, "I thought I only had one enemy. Now you have made me aware I have 30 million (Hindu gods)!" We laughed but little did any of us know the battle we were being prepared for.

Our talk was filled with encouragement and challenges for boldness in faith and warfare. We finished our day feeling blessed and having been a blessing. Our training for them, in reality, was setting the stage and fortifying our spirit for the days ahead.

Night Sky

"they returned again with joy... and He said I saw Satan fall like lightening..." Luke 10:17-18

We had a full day with the children at the orphanage. During my first visit in November the children were shy and reserved - this time I was a friend returning from a foreign land to bring good tidings, fun stories and of course gifts!

Our 90% off Pom Pom craft was 90% disaster! The glue wasn't sticking, the children weren't patient and cries of "Auntie, Auntie, Auntie" echoed throughout the room. Unfortunately V didn't realize Auntie was the typical customary address for elders in India and failed to respond to their cries. We laughed about it and closed the session having a good time in spite of our failed project.

We made our way back to the hotel, and after a short rest we set off in a cloud-filled sky toward our first night village meeting. The smell of rain filled the air and we wondered what would happen should the showers begin before we got underway. As we turned on the final dirt road leading to the village the sprinkles on the windshield fell in full force and as we got out of the car it was no doubt - raining. The missionary of the village and other believers were taking shelter under the mango tree in front of the house where we stopped.

Pastor P suggested we head up the stairs toward the rooftop of the building and have our meeting in the two small second story rooms. We crowded in with the children, vying to be on the front, and as many adults as possible towards the back of the 8x8 room with more hovering around the door.

Just as we were semi-settled, the rain stopped and we rearranged ourselves back out onto the balcony. In the distance, the city lights of Hubli twinkled, closer in smoke rose from the fires preparing the evening meals and the night sky flickered with lighting in the heavens.

Satan was going down! The villagers sang praise songs led by the missionary and church workers, and we picked up on the interspersed "Hallelujahs" and "Jesu" words easily understood across the world.

A cool breeze from the storm passed kept us comfortable in the midst of our surrounding crowd. I began with the unequal ropes, the Holy Bible and finished with the Rainbow Bag. V shared her testimony and we finished with A's heartfelt and impassioned prayer for the group gathered. We prayed well into the night, blessing those who had come to "see". Toward the end of our time a young woman approached me and said in English, "I want what you have, the love and forgiveness of Jesus, I have sinned, I need Him."

I prayed with her, for her, and communicated her repentance of sin guaranteed her eternity and salvation.

"I saw Satan fall like lightening..."

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

A Long Days Journey into Night and Day

Praise God for Gate Agents and upgrades! After careful weighing and re-weighing and re-packing and re-adjusting - we just gave up, made the decision we were traveling as heavy as would allow (two 70lb bags and four 50 lbs plus our hand luggage). Weighty yes, but we knew what we were taking in would help sow seeds of Kingdom significance.
DFW-FRA passed quickly and we woke from our in flight nap somewhat refreshed. We had time in Germany to ask every friendly gate or ticket or lounge agent we could, about our possibilities for the upgrade we had requested. Finally, at the last boarding call we got lucky - and what luck it was. Although it is hardly worth the expense it was quite the treat to stretch out in comfort, eat heartily and have our choice of movie pleasures.

We arrived safe and sound a bit weary but... ready for all that lies ahead. W. (Pastor P's nephew) was waiting as we walked out of the terminal all 300 lbs of luggage and all. We went to the same hotel he had stayed at in November, in bed by 3:00 am and by 8:00 am Pastor P and A came knocking. We were still asleep, but got up and got showered and ready for the day and our trip on to Hubli.

Pastor P arranged for W to carry our largest luggage with him by bus. We felt bad - but it resulted in no extra luggage charges on our domestic flight. Safe passage, good in flight meal and little turbulence. Our dinner at P's was delicious, delightful and ready to get us set for our first program. Now back to the hotel and set for rest.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

INDIA - Calendar of Events

Depart DFW

Arrive Frankfurt depart for Mumbai

Arrive Mumbai travel to Hubli

COM Orphanage Program
Village Meeting

Pastor Training
Village Meeting

Church Children Program

Travel to Gokak
Children Festival

Worship service
Travel to Gulburga

Gulburga Believer's Meeting

Orphanage Outreach
Village Meeting

Travel Hyderbad to Madurai

APRIL 26-28
Redeeming India outreach
Travel to Chennai
Travel Chennai - Vijaywada to Machilipatnam

APRIL 30 - May 2
Children Program
Village Outreach

Return to USA