Lessons in an Indian village

I chose the photo for this blog for two reasons.

1. It is one of the most recent photos I have of myself.

2. It is a constant reminder to me of why national missions works.

I serve at Gospel for Asia. What sets our mission group apart is that we don't send missionaries in the traditional sense of a Western mission organization. We send national missionaries (some people describe them as indigenous missionaries). What that means is we equip the locals to read out to their own people. If you want to know more about this philosopy, you can read about it at www.gfa.org/about/why-national-missions-works/

When I met the woman in the photo I had an epiphany of some sorts about national missions. Here's what happened. I was visiting with a Gospel for Asia-supported missionary in western India. He lives in a village near a major city. I guess it could accurately be described as a suburb, but boy, was it different than the suburb I live in! This dear brother drove us out to the village where this woman lives. It's not very far from the village where his church is, nor is it more than 30 miles from that major metropolitan city I mentioned. But, it is light years away from both of them. Her village was a small, tight-knit place of probably less than 100 people. The people and their way of life are beautiful, albeit spiritually dark.

What bothered me the most during our visit to the village is that the woman in the photo tried to talk to me. She was very adamant and animated in her conversation, and I could tell that what she was saying was very important to her. Sadly I had no clue what her words meant. At the time she tried to srike up a conversation with me, our interpretor and the missionary who was leading us were involved in another conversation. So I did what all Americans do, I smiled and nodded my head. I felt totally useless.

When we arrived in the village that morning a group of this woman's fellow villagers gathered around our missionary host. They proceeded to have a very animated conversation. I so wanted to understand what they were saying to him. You see he has been visiting their village and praying with them. He already speaks the language, understands their culture and easily started a relationship with the people there. He has earned their respect and trust.

Me? Not so much. I realized at that moment why national missionaries are so important. Even if God put a burning desire in my heart to reach this village It would take me years to learn the language and by then, it might be too late for this woman. But she's hearing the Gospel thanks to the national missionary who already knows her language.

I do pray that she will choose to follow Christ and that I will get to see her again one day in heaven. Who knows, maybe we'll be next-door neighbors and we can sit down and have tea--Indian chair tea of course!