Our God Can Do Anything!

The sad eyes of hungry children begging for food, sick babies pitifully crying, the wafting of open sewers, smoke-flavored food cooked over an open fire, sleeping in a hammock, seeing snakes hang from the rafters of thatch-roofed homes contrasting drastically with the mansions of the elite, noisy streets where the lanes are a mere suggestion of where you might want to drive, I had experienced it all as a missionary’s kid. So, what could be all that different with this mission trip to rural India?

To share the gospel in an evangelistic campaign was a dream I had always held close to my heart. The opportunity arose and I was privileged to join Pastor Jon Clayburn. We were able to team preach, taking turns every other night giving the sermon and the children’s program.

The nurse in our team, Evelyn Holdren, taught the people practical ways to treat common illnesses and how to prevent some of the rampant diseases many had come to accept as inevitable.

Each night the crowds swelled till we had between six and seven hundred people attending. Some people came by foot; others rode packed together on flat bed trailers pulled by tractors from four other villages. The Bible workers had worked hard preparing the fields for harvest. These dedicated men and their families have few luxuries such as shoes but their faces glow with the love of Jesus. Daily they work on creating their own Bible studies, memorizing an impressive number of texts. After all, when you don’t have a concordance, knowing your material is essential.

On one of the first nights, I was listening to the special music when someone pulled on the scarf of my Punjab outfit. A woman holding her two-year-old baby girl motioned me to step outside. The baby screamed as she clawed at the air for very breath. I got up, put my hand on the baby, and was horrified to, not only sense a very high fever, but feel her little chest rattle like a bucket of bolts in a paint shaker. The baby girl’s face was turning blue and the mother begged me frantically to “Madam, please, blessings my baby”. I put my hand on her heaving little back and began to pray “Dear Lord, please help this baby girl get better.” She calmed down a little. Then I thought, “You know, this baby has no chance at any kind of medical care. There is none in her village, and even if there were, her mother couldn’t afford it.” “Lord, she is a little Hindu baby. I’ll admit I don’t have the faith I need, but I really want to have the kind of faith that moves mountains. For the sake of this little girl and her family, for the sake of her village, please heal her right now so they might know there is a caring God in heaven that is all powerful.”

Instantly, like a breaker switch had been thrown, the baby quit crying and fell into a peaceful sleep, her little body cooled down, the rattle in her chest stopped and air flowed freely through her lungs. Feeling overwhelmed at what I had just witnessed, I turned around with tears springing up and spilling over.

One of the village elders was known to be a fighter. He was a short man but muscularly built. It was rumored that he could, and had, taken down three men at a time. The deep lines in his face told of a hard life, etched by prejudice to people outside his clan. He believed in the God of heaven, but that knowledge had not yet transformed his life. The Hindu priest did not want us to come, but was finally persuaded to give us two nights, after which he intended to close down our meetings. Two nights went by, three nights, four nights, and each night they both sat a bit closer to the front, drinking in the words of salvation that they were hearing. Their faces softened, and frequent smiles broke out on their normally storm-clouded faces. This village elder was soon parading us around as if we were his long lost friends, taking us to families in his village so we could pray with them.

Towards the end of the meetings, the village elder was baptized and demonstrated that he was a changed man by throwing a meal of rice and dahl for everyone. Spending a small fortune he bought and cooked over 70 kilos of rice, only to discover it wouldn’t stretch far enough to feed everyone. He asked that all the people from the “other villages” be fed first before feeding the people from his own village. The next night he cooked more food so he could feed his villagers. He had discovered that when Jesus comes into a person’s life, there is no room for prejudice. And what happened to the Hindu priest? The local Bible worker told us “give him some time, but I have no doubt he will soon give all of his heart to Jesus, the one God above all gods.”

“Please, Madam, blessings my son," the father pleaded.

"What is the matter with your son?" I asked.

Speaking English better than most villagers, this man said, "His hand and arm not work”, so saying, he showed me the boy's stiff arm with curled up, skinny fingers which refused to move.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" I asked the little boy, using gestures so he would understand. His sad brown eyes looked into mine as I wiggled my fingers into his awkward little fist. Showing he understood my request, he grabbed my hand with his good hand and squeezed hard, but his curled up little fingers wouldn’t budge.

"Oh Lord, I think this boy and his father must only be visiting tonight as I don't remember seeing them before. Lord, I do not know what they know about You, but they have come asking for healing for this poor boy's arm and hand. If it be your will, heal this little boy. Fill him with your love…"

Opening my eyes before I finished, I looked down at the little chap and saw something I will never forget. Holding his hand in front of his face he was slowly wiggling those previously atrophied, stiff fingers. The look of amazement and wonder left no doubt that this was a new experience.

I don't believe I ever finished that prayer, except to squeak out an emotional "Amen". The God of the universe had stepped into that field in the little village of Bapanatapurum and had taken note of a little boy's hand. Friends, God is the same God today as He was walking the dusty roads of ancient Judea! He loves to bring surprises, health, and healing into lives and He especially loves little children.

Each night we asked for decisions for Jesus at our meetings. Joy lit up their faces as they held their hands high in commitment. As they prepared for baptism, there were other decisions to be made. Idols had to be disposed of, shrines in their homes had to be torn down, and rituals to their gods stopped. The fear of retaliation from their gods was very real. Daily their gods had to be appeased, but now they would be very angry since they were trading them all in for the one true God.

As they went into the waters of baptism the struggle was unmistakable. They took off their devil charms and looked at them for a few seconds. Some were tempted to put them in their pockets, just in case they might need them. Then a determined look would cross their faces as they took the charms and hurled them as far as they could into the lake. When they splashed out of the water, no one needed an interpreter to understand the look on their faces. They were free for the first time in their lives. Free from the fears that had ruled their lives for so long. They were now children of the heavenly King. They weren’t just from a particular cast, they were royalty, and they knew it!

My friend, Pastor Tim Bailey, was standing on the bank of the irrigation ditch, praying for each person as they sloshed their way out from the muddy waters of baptism. One little old lady kept pulling on Tim’s arm excitedly chattering away in Telegu while she pointed at her eyes. Calling a translator over, Tim was astonished at what he heard. This lady had been blind for a long time. As a Hindu, she had no hope, but, once she learned about Jesus, she put her hope in Him and when she came out of the waters of baptism she was rewarded with sight. ““Then he touched their eyes saying”, “According to your faith be it unto you, and their eyes were opened.””” Matthew 9:29, 30

Oh, to one day be in heaven and meet these beautiful, dark-skinned brothers and sisters from India. To see them walking on streets of gold, never having to be sick or hungry any more, to see them meet their Jesus face to face!

Finally, the day came to say our last good-byes to the villagers who had become like family. Many tears were shed as we promised to meet them in heaven. As we boarded the bus headed for Hyderabad, joy bubbled up in our hearts as we thought over the events of the last few weeks. A deep sense of purpose had been kindled in our hearts. Regardless of our careers, gender, or age, our mission is to tell the world about the soon coming Savior! Sadness engulfed us knowing there was the possibility of never seeing these beautiful Indian people again on this earth. We would deeply miss our translators, taxi drivers, and the missionaries we had come to love. We had traveled to this far off-land, some as friends, some as strangers, but our hearts were knit together by a common goal and experience of leading souls to Jesus.

But God wasn’t done yet! For my return trip, I felt strongly impressed to wear my best Indian Punjab outfit, in spite of the fact that I was worried that it would get snagged. Arriving in LA, I was standing in line to get a much coveted salad. (Do you have any idea how good even plain lettuce looks after four weeks without it?) A tall, pleasant, 64-year-old man tapped me on my shoulder, curious about the origin of my outfit. He noticed my Bible and said “Hey, that’s a great book...the best!” He then invited me to eat at his table.

“What gives with you?”, the man, whose name was Richard,* asked.

“Excuse me? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, why are you so happy?”

“Well, I suppose it is because I just got back from a trip to India and had some wonderful experiences there.” I told him about the many miracles I had experienced, of people coming to the knowledge of Jesus, cutting off their devil charms when they were baptized, and seeing people healed. Several times his eyes filled with tears.

“I have a good marriage, am involved in my church. I love God, am an entrepreneur and make a good living. So, why do you seem more satisfied?”

“You will never know what true happiness is till you are doing exactly what God wants you to do. Now, maybe God wants you to continue on with your business, but, just maybe, He knows that you are at the point where you can sell your business, live off the interest, and work in full-time mission work of some type. When you dedicate your life to giving the gospel, you will have a sense of fulfillment that nothing else can replace.”

After the four-hour layover and a flight together, the time came to part. As Richard shook my hand, his eyes were full of tears, “You know, don’t you, that us meeting up was an appointment set by God. I would never have noticed you except that you were wearing that Indian outfit, and God took over from there. Thank you so much for taking the time, not thinking it was strange that I wanted to talk to you. Thank you for sharing your mission experiences with me. I have a lot of things to think over, but I think that I am going to put my business up for sale. It is too late in earth’s history. It is time to go for broke for the sake of the gospel.”

So why should you go on a mission trip? Because, it will change your life forever. You will come back not just knowing in theory that God can do anything, but you will experience it first hand.

Your heart will be wrung as you see the poverty around you and the hopelessness that even wealth brings without the knowledge of a personal God. You will be humbled to know that God is anxious to use anyone who is willing to be to be his hands and feet, to reach a hurting world. Your priorities will be rearranged. Friendships will be sealed which will last for eternity and feel as close as family.

And, one day, when you get to heaven you will have many friends from a far off-land that will say, “Thank you for giving to the Lord! I was a life that was changed….” What does it cost to go on a mission trip? That, my friend, doesn’t matter, because, you see, the rewards are out of this world, and the ticket price will be long forgotten.

To participate in such a mission trip to India contact Share Him, a ministry of the Carolina Conference through their website www.sharehim.org or you can contact Mr. Bob Robinson in India at robertr@sud-adventist.org