Big and Small, God Uses Them All

Two weeks ago we were in Vijayawada, in a little thatch church with a dirt floor.  Monday, we were in one of the largest in the city—St. Peter’s Lutheran Church.  The altar area was

paneled in teak and the floors were marble.  Russ was asked to preach on this second day of Holy Week, from Mark 11:15-19.

It’s still hard to reconcile formal cassocks and chandeliers with indigenous drums and lizards

My Father's House of Prayer--for All Nations

on the walls.  Head Pastor Adam Kennedy (named in honor of JFK but definitely not Irish) and Assistant Pastor Santha Rao (our host this week) welcomed us. 

A lone woman prayed at the railing, the pastors began the liturgy, and then Russ gave his message on Jesus’ cleansing of the temple, His Father’s House of Prayer.  Russ spoke of the foundational need of prayer for the Christian life, and also the need for cleansing our lives before coming to God.

His message bore fruit.  People began coming up to the altar rail; old women fell on their faces, girls kneeled, men raised their hands in prayer.  The Lord moves in hearts and souls, whether they worship Him in a tent slum or in high church.  We are honored that He continues to use us in both places.

Tuesday saw us back in Bapatla, where Russ taught 20-odd pastors (they kept arriving) principles of Christian leadership.  Some were bivocational, either teaching at Bible colleges, or driving autorickshaws—besides their ministry—to support their families.  It seems pastors’ lives are similar all over the world. 

Pastors' Meeting, Bapatla

We spent time afterward talking with Santha Rao and James, our interpreter, who is quite an intellectual.  We discussed theology and eternity and evangelism.  Santha Rao’s deepest desire is to bring the Gospel to the unreached across India. 

And, they want us back for a three-day conference next year, and would like to include pastors’ wives.  So many local pastors have so little training.  Even though they have a great desire to serve God, they definitely need more grounding in both the Scriptures and in administration.  We are praying that the Lord will make it possible for us to continue this crucial work. 

 

Tomorrow we prepare for a long train journey toward Pithapuram and our next Pastors’ and Wives’ Conference.  We will spend Easter at Pastor Samuel Raju’s Grace Baptist Church and minister with him for ten days.  Then on to Orissa with Pastor Bihit to reach more tribals in the Eastern Ghat Mountains.  So much has happened, yet so much lies ahead.  Who knows what God will do?

Please continue to keep us in your prayers.  The steep stairways and long ministry journeys are not easy--and especially hard on Russ’ legs.  But we see the heartfelt response to the Gospel and Bible teaching, and it propels us onward.   

May the Lord be glorified among the nations!  --Alice Sharrock

Palm Sunday (Literally)

Palm Sunday means church to most of us, the start of Holy Week, and praises to our King.  It just feels a little different in India.

We started early, heading north toward Guntur from Bapatla, and found ourselves along the same mountains as our first week. Fields of red chili, cotton and rice kuppas (huge round stacks curing in the fields) slipped past us.  Men threshed seeds in the road, leaving the ripened plants for traffic to run over, then tossing the crop into the air for the wind to cleanse. 

Building materials changed from concrete to native rock. The village of Peddigothi Paddu appeared like a morph of an Irish village with stone buildings, narrow streets and thatched roofs.  Except the signs were in Telugu and barefoot men wearing lungis trudged along the road.

Palm Sunday, Peddigothi Paddu, India

A beautiful church came into sight, surrounded by coconut palms. Palm branches—decorated with flowers on the tip of each leaflet—were waving from the fencing.  It was a fitting place to worship on this Palm Sunday.  

Christ Lutheran Church was built in 1927 and has a congregation of over 300.  Most of them were here today to worship the Lord as King of kings—and as the Lamb of God whose death would become His destiny in a few more days.

Pastor Ravi Prasad, Santha Rao’s elder brother, had invited Russ to preach on this important occasion.  Church began with throbbing drums and jangling tambourines; hymns and prayers mixed the flavors of India and Europe, yet there was a sense of profound worship.  God desires to be praised by all nations, tribes, peoples and languages of His earth. 

"The Road to Jerusalem"

Russ spoke of The Road to Jerusalem—Jesus’ path of submission, fulfillment of prophecy, destiny and ultimately, our salvation at the Cross.  We had a skilful interpreter and the service flowed beautifully.  We were impressed at the large number of men present, and how Pastor Prasad involved young and old, men and women during worship.  It was a blessing to us.

Worshiping with Grandpa

India is a land of incredible contrasts.  We have brought the Gospel to people in thatched huts and in concrete church buildings; in village crusades where the mosquitoes outnumbered the people; in prayer meetings packed with sweaty bodies eager to hear about Jesus; walked through mud, buffalo manure and monsoon floods to reach the poor living in slums.  The lost are hungry for the hope of Jesus Christ, and God has given us the responsibility to feed them with His Word.  On this Palm Sunday, we truly experienced His reality as Lord of lords, King of kings, and the One True God in a land of a million idols.  Hosanna to the Son of David!

--Alice Sharrock 

The Man with No Legs

Pastor Santha Rao introduces Russ

Thursday night we did High Church.  Pastor Santha Rao took us to a brother pastor’s parish, in Pitalavani Palem. They are Evangelical Lutheran, and both the church and worship were a bit more in the western tradition.  Pastor Abraham wore a white cassock and the conservative altar hangings contrasted sharply with colorful tinsel draped from the rafters overhead.  We entered the well-kept stucco building, complete with steeple, and I sat on floor mats among the women.  I think Kipling was mistaken—East does meet West sometimes, but he was right in that it happens only in God’s presence.  (…East is East, and West is West and ne’er the twain shall meet, til Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat…)

Pastor Santha Rao introduced Russ, Pastor Abraham’s 

The Man with No Legs Preaching

congregation greeted him, and we sang hymns in Telugu words whose melodies had roots in Wittenberg or Frankfurt.  Once again, the Lord led Russ to intertwine his personal testimony with a message about the uniqueness of each human soul created in the image of the One True God.  The concept of sin and the need for salvation were clearly and passionately explained.  I feel this was Russ’ best presentation so far. 

We realized yesterday that the Lord is creating an interesting phenomenon.  Word is spreading rapidly about “the man with no legs who is traveling across India to preach the gospel”.  The common people here, where suffering is an integral part of life, recognize the validity of Russ’ experience with God during the past two terrible years.  The upper class marvel that he would brave the discomfort and challenges to travel here.  Believers are being encouraged, and the unsaved come out of curiosity.  Even at the children’s program last night, Russ captivated them with his titanium legs.  And we have received an invitation to speak in Hyderabad and to outlying tribal villages where pastors are hearing the rumors.

East and West before God's Throne

Russ sometimes jokes about his “weight loss plan—very effective but not recommended”—referring to his amputations.  I don’t think we need to seek suffering, but God always works everything together for good, to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.  He is using “the man with no legs” to bring the Gospel of Jesus Christ to India.  We are definitely being used for His purpose.   

--Alice Sharrock

    

Life is Hard (and then you die...)

Old Dalit Women Praying

India is an enigma, a mesmerizing mosaic, a contradiction to western logic.  We sit and talk while our appointment time passes by, hours later we rush like frenzied NASCAR drivers to a meeting in a distant Dalit colony outside Narasaya Palem.  It doesn’t matter anyway…the power has been cut, a railroad crossing is barred, and huge Mahendra tractors pulling wagonloads of rice straw emerge from the night and block the narrow road. 

Did we mention that the straw mountains are about 14 feet cubed; while the road is about ten feet wide; with sheer drop offs into the rice paddies?  Our driver tries to pass in the darkness and even Russ (normally taking Indian driving in stride)—gasps.  A deep washout is directly in front of his side of the vehicle, so our driver practices a rare moment of patience until the tractors rumble on behind us.

The unpaved road turns into a laneway, then into a Jeep trail with holes and humps barely passable by a water buffalo.  A cluster of tiny stucco houses (each about the size of an American dining room) surrounds a floodlit mound of clay covered by a tarp.  Well over a hundred people sit on mats or plastic chairs, awaiting our arrival.  The power has come back on (intermittently), and the meeting can begin.

Annamani, Russ, Santha Rao, and James our Interpreter

Pastor Santha Rao has a vision—to construct a Children’s Home for boys, encouraging them to become evangelists to their people.  If they make the choice, he will provide further training.  If not, they can stay until they are 18 and go out on their own.  The foundation and pillars are already begun; he needs the finances to complete the project.  We are here tonight to spread the Gospel and look over the possibilities.

Life is hard for most Indians; especially the Dalit (Untouchables.)  The miles of fertile rice paddies are owned by absentee landlords; the land is worked by laborers whose life consists of dawn-to-dusk tasks:  Planting, irrigating, harvesting, curing and threshing the rice.  Most is done by hand, and most live out their lives right here, as their ancestors did 2000 years ago. There is not even a well nearby—women still carry water on their shoulders from a distant hand pump.

Narasaya Palem

Listening to the Gospel

Russ felt led to use his testimony again—that suffering is part of life on this earth, but if we come to Christ, He is with us through the suffering.  People listened intently and came for prayer afterward.  When the sick came up as a group, I burst into tears:  So many could be cured by basic medical help—two young ladies about 18 or 20 with deformed faces, teeth growing out of folds alongside one’s nose—crippled young men leaning on staffs or crude walkers—a 12-year-old with severe scoliosis, one shoulder twisted high above her bent and fragile frame.  Then came the old women; one shaking with palsy, leaning on her stick and young granddaughter.  O Lord God, I thought, there but for Your Grace, go I….

 

Suffering is indeed part of life.  But Americans see little of true suffering.  On the way home, I asked about the round granaries made of roped straw, where the local villagers store their “paddy” (rice with husks still on it).  I thought mice probably shared in the harvest.  Then my heart was broken again—there are tribes/castes, below the Untouchables, that live on the rice stolen by rats and stored in their burrows.  They dig up the rice, and kill the rats and eat them as well.  Can I even imagine this kind of existence? 

We—with a life based on the Christian worldview—do not understand.  But God does.  And we are here to bring God to those who have never heard of Him. Meanwhile, Russ and I are learning much more about daily life and culture outside of church walls.  We will share some of that with you in a later Blog.

--Alice Sharrock

The Faces of AIDS

Alice, Rathna and Friend

In 2010, I dared to hug a leper, and we wept together.  Yesterday, I hugged some women with HIV/AIDS, and we laughed together.  

It was an incredible experience.  AIDS is a death sentence, especially in an underdeveloped area.  Yet many of these women appeared full of life.

Some, I admit, were obviously suffering in their final years from a disease that was probably acquired from a wayward husband.  Others seemed like middle-aged scholars, or kindly aunties.  Yet many were young and beautiful—and had darling little children.  All will probably die within the next several years.  This is hard for me to grasp.

Russ Preaching, Johnpaul Interpreting

Johnpaul's Favour the Helpless Mission gathered about 65 women and three men, all HIV-positive.  The evening began as Russ spoke on the uniqueness of humanity:  God’s power in Creation and His love for humans as individuals.  He also explained the fall of mankind and the need for Christ’s salvation.

Attention was riveted on Russ, with Johnpaul interpreting--then laughter broke out.  Johnpaul has a half-grown, well-fed buffalo heifer, (think 2 year old Angus) intended as a milk cow in the near future; she had been untied and led to drink nearby, then she decided to head for the porch where the meeting was in progress.  It took quite a bit of muscle for men and boys to redirect her wayward path.

I had been apprehensive about this evening.  How could I minister to someone I knew was going to die all too soon?  What sadness would their lives hold?  How could I know their needs, especially since I cannot speak their language?

As I sat on the far end of the porch, they blended into a colorful mass of backs.  I think the laughter over the buffalo jolted me into the reality of what Russ was preaching:  Each woman and man was a precious individual, created and beloved by the Lord.  Jesus Christ cared enough to come and die for every one of us. 

Bright Eyes

I became acutely aware of a little girl staring brightly at my strange face and skin.  Yet, as different as I seemed, we were all women, all alike in so many ways.  We all washed our laundry, cooked our meals, swept our homes, loved our families, tried to look beautiful, and had tears of suffering in our hearts.  Maybe from different causes, but there was much we shared.  Right here and now, we shared the will to live, and we responded to laughter together.  Death was still some months or years away. 

HIV/AIDS Meeting

I rejoined Russ at the front after his message.  We were waiting while the government man slowly registered each HIV/AIDS victim’s name.  Meanwhile, I saw the women as faces, as individuals, as souls.    Our eyes met and we began to communicate.  I went to one lady and pointed to her toe ring (the symbol of marriage in this culture), then to my wedding ring, then to Russ.  He held his up as well.  She nodded in understanding and the women around her giggled.  They whispered among themselves and indicated that we were a good couple—somehow the thoughts leaped over the lack of language. 

I took more photos, and shared the camera screen with each one.  Soon they were pushing their children forward for “one photo”, and gathering around me with more laughter.  Even the older women wanted to be recorded, to be recognized as unique human beings.  Don’t we all want to be known, at least by God?  O God, please cause Your Word to be understood, Your love made known, and Your salvation, Lord Jesus, become a reality to these souls.  All of us are close to the door of eternity.  Some of us realize how close we are, others are oblivious.  But all of us eventually pass through that door into Your Presence.  Please help us to come to You before that day.

Faces of Grief--Naga Mani

Russ and I feel we brought a touch of joy and hope into the hearts of these women.  Yet some were deeply sorrowful, beyond comforting right now.  Nagamani had two sons also with HIV/AIDS.  One son was still in school, but the other one was made miserable by taunts and insults until one day he finally committed suicide by throwing himself in front of a train.  Her grief is still visible on her lined face.

Old Faces

About 2.5 million people in India live with HIV/AIDS—half of the world’s cases.  With proper medical care (not affordable to the very poor) many victims could live for 8 or ten years.  However, this culture—where community and extended family ties are essential to life—treats them as outcasts.  Many die within two years because they are cut off from family, friends, and society as a whole.  

Faces That Embrace Life

Young Faces

We want to share some of the faces with you.  Please pray for the HIV/AIDS victims of Tenali, of India, of the world.  They are souls in need of salvation, just as we once were.  May God be glorified in these lives also!   --Alice Sharrock

                                                                                                                    

     

Essential Worship

We headed north past the Mangalagiri Hills, the tropical sun glaring overhead.  As we approached the city of Vijayawada, road construction and new apartment buildings gave evidence of tremendous expansion and westernization; yet traffic was still held up by herds of water buffalo, and the mighty Krishna River still had women washing laundry on its banks.

Thadigadapa Village Church, Pastor Annanda

We wound through busy streets and shops on the outskirts of the city, then along a canal of murky water with trash spilling down its banks.  Suddenly our driver did a U-Turn and stopped in front of a mass of thatched huts crowded between the frenzied traffic and the canal.  A man stood expectantly by an entryway draped with rice bags.  This was our destination, the church of Thadigadapa village.

Sometimes I feel ashamed of being an American Christian.  How often we see in our religious publications, in our searches for pastors, the lofty educational requirements and financial packages offered; we see mega churches and multimillion dollar sanctuaries with cutting edge electronics; fellowship halls that rival restaurant kitchens and dining rooms; vast parking lots, fleets of buses--the list is endless.

What does God require of us?  Is not the Lord seeking those who worship Him in simplicity, in Spirit and in truth?  We found that this Sunday.

Pastor Annanda Raju and Mary

The church, led by Pastor Annanda Raju and his wife Mary, is approximately 12 by 12 feet small.  Behind this sanctuary, the back half of the bamboo and palm leaf structure is another room about the same size.  That is their home.  I doubt if most Americans would store their garden tools there.  Yet we experienced praise and worship here in its simplest, purest form.

The sun beat down on the thatch, releasing an aroma somewhere between fresh cut lumber and drying hay--maybe faintly reminiscent of the manger where Jesus first laid His head.  29 men and women, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the dirt floor, raised their voices to the Lord.  "Hallelujah" is the same in every language around the world, and God was glorified.

Russ brought an encouraging message based on a variation of his personal testimony:  Suffering is part of the Christian life, God is always with us in and through suffering, trust in the Lord with all your heart and He will have the glory.  All eyes focused on him.  All ears were open to the Word of God.  All hearts and souls were fully there--something I seldom see in America.  No cellphones interrupted...no one was texting...no one was looking at a watch...  The Lord Himself was there among us.

We continue to be amazed by the sacrifice and dedication of the pastors in India.  We continue to be amazed by the depth and sincerity of worship.  We come here to help and encourage the poor struggling churches, birthed in poverty and enduring persecution--yet Russ and I feel that we are the ones blessed and encouraged.  And yes, a bit shamed...  We actually feel a bit nauseous when we return to the US and try to re-enter the materialistic, God-apathetic culture.  May our hearts return to truly worshiping Him in Spirit and in truth, for God seeks such to worship Him!

Please continue to pray as we continue our ministry and journey.  Thursday we speak to HIV/AIDS victims, many of whom are women who contracted it from wandering husbands.  Then more gospel to neighborhoods and villages, on to another location, and in two weeks a long train ride up the coast.  Praise the Lord!  Russ' leg blisters (from 3 days in transit) are healed.  Keep in mind we have very limited access to the internet, intermittent electricity, and are staying 22 steps above ground.  Yet God is giving us the strength needed to expand His Kingdom to the nations.  Praise His Holy Name!

--Alice Sharrock