Easter in Pithapuram

The sun rises like a glowing ember in the smoky haze of humidity.  Easter morning is already in full swing—the staccato of autorickshaws, the off-key droning of local church music, and the slap-slap of laundry being done somewhere in this extremely crowded neighborhood. 

We are staying on the third floor of a nicer home along a narrow alley squeezed between two greenish drain gutters—40 steps up and 40 steps down, plus four more to street level.  Then Russ has to walk to Mirapakalaya (Chili) Street to get into a car, if we go to preach elsewhere.  Today we are only going two blocks to Grace Baptist Church, pastored by Samuel Raju, to give the Easter message--so Russ gets into his wheelchair in the alley, and we roll off to church.  A retinue follows us carrying his Bible, drinking water bottles and our cameras. 

Various children and curious onlookers join the train….we are definitely a foreign oddity.  

A legless white man and a grey-haired woman in the hot tropical sun, on a street crowded with motorbikes, decrepit bicycles, women with baskets balanced on their heads, wandering pigs, street dogs, trash, and of course chilis. 

(We had seen miles of chili fields southwest of Guntur, and this is where they go next.  Huge burlap bags of chilis dominate the scene. Merchants and warehouse owners farm out the chilis to local housewives to de-stem at one rupee [2 cents] per kilo.  Chilis, chilis everywhere.  The home where we have a room belongs to a chili dealer, a recent convert to Christianity.)

                                                                                           

Grace Baptist Church, Pithapuram

Grace Baptist Church was the first Christian church in this Hindu town, begun in 1994.  It meets on the second floor of Pastor Samuel’s modest home. This means up three very high steps from the street, into a long skinny corridor to the back, then up more staircases to the meeting.  Russ says people may think he is brave for coming to preach in India, but maybe we have a touch of insanity thrown in…

The day is hot, the room is hot, the congregation sitting on the floor are hot, we are hot.  This is the highest holy day of the Christian world, and we are celebrating it with brothers and sisters on the opposite side of the world who do not speak our language.  Pastor Samuel’s daughter Mary Grace, who just graduated from Berean Bible College in Bangalore, is our translator.  Russ speaks about the empty cross, God’s promise of salvation; the empty tomb, His promise of eternal life; and the 

Easter in Pithapuram, India (Alice, lower right)

empty grave clothes, Jesus’ promise of continuing fellowship with a living Lord.  Translation flows smoothly and people are attentive.

Then the inevitable happens.  This is India, and the power goes out as usual.  We lose the mikes and the ceiling fans.  The children grow restless and the babies squall.  Hot becomes stifling. We can barely breathe.  But Russ’ Easter message is just about concluded and they have all been presented with the Gospel.   

The service and fellowship are wonderful, but exhausting.  We rest a while, then in the cool of evening, head for Pastor Samuel’s mission church in Kondevaram village.  In this predominately Hindu area, there had been no place of worship, and a lady who attended in

Pithapuram begged him to plant a church in her village.  We ride through the darkness and pull up in front of a little stucco room with thatch roof.  Men, women and children await our arrival, and a huge stem of bananas stands in the corner.  Alice greets the congregation, then Russ gives his message a second time, and people bow to the ground in prayer before God.  Then we eat again.  It is hard to realize that as we are winding down at night, our friends in Oklahoma are just beginning their Easter service.

(Note:  After the two-day Pastors’ and Wives’ Conference, we will be holding three days of outdoor Gospel Meetings in Kondevaram village, to reach Hindus of the area with the hope of Christ.)

Both of us are being stretched.  Alice is now eating with her hands (sometimes) in the Indian tradition, and sitting on the floor with the women of the churches—which endears us to them. 

Russ is learning that a well-planned schedule—especially the listed times—are subject to constant change.  We are both grateful for at least a ceiling fan in lieu of AC—and for power when we have it.  Internet is an infrequent luxury.  We wash our laundry in our bath buckets—sometimes in water of questionable hue and provenance.  Unwelcome flora and fauna are part of our daily lives, including in our rooms and on our persons.  But as we said before, this is NOT a vacation.

  

This is celebrating Christ’s Resurrection with our brothers and sisters a world away, encouraging persecuted believers (yes, here in Pithapuram) and bringing Him to those who have never heard.  May the Lord continue to be glorified among the nations!

--Alice Sharrock