Though there have admittedly been many times when my prayers have gone unanswered (and I trust, based on both scripture and past experience, that God was sovereign in each one of these occurrences), God answered our prayers in a huge way this past week. Here is the incredible story….
(Though I usually don’t do this, and probably will not for the rest of this year, I decided to occasionally include entries from my daily journal as these events occurred. Hopefully, this will give you a better picture of what I was feeling on each specific day of the story.)
Earlier in the month, our two teams were on a prayer walk in some local neighborhoods and local slums. Prayer walks were nothing new for either of our teams, and there didn’t seem to be anything special about this one either. During prayer walks, we typically pray silently for the households we pass and strike up conversations with anybody (usually children) who asks us what we are doing. About halfway into this walk, a few of our girls exhibited great boldness and decided to start asking to enter houses to pray for people and share the Gospel.
Inspired by their boldness, I turned to Michael and asked him if he wanted to go off as a pair and do the same thing the girls were doing in the opposite geographical direction. He did, and we paused to ask God to lead us to a house. We asked for His supernatural guidance in whatever form it might come—be it a subtle conviction or in thunderclaps and lightning. Though we heard nothing audibly, nor experienced a supernatural occurrence, we felt subtly motivated to go visit a small white house about 200 meters away.
As we came to this humble, old, white house, we were pleased to find a man out front. Lest we cast ourselves as valiant knights in shining Gospel-armor, I must admit that we were both incredibly timid—unsure of how this man would react to the unexpected foreigners at his door. I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind: “Do you speak English?” He smiled widely and went to unlock his door before inviting us inside.
We formally introduced ourselves, and we found out his name was Sridhar Payaraman. In a display of typical Indian hospitality, he immediately invited us to sit down and make ourselves at home. When we told him that we were Christians, he responded that he too prayed to Jesus, though it was obvious by his array of Hindu idols and photos of Hindu gods that he prayed to Jesus alongside many other “gods”. We prayed for his finances as well as his wife, Deepa’s, pregnancy. She was eight months into her pregnancy and expecting her first child in November.
They thanked us profusely and told us how honored they felt that we had visited their home. They also assured us that we were welcome back in their home at any time. Unfortunately, I was too timid to share the full counsel of God with this beautiful family.
Almost a week passed, and we didn’t return to the house. When time had dwindled down to the point where only one week remained in Bangalore, however, Michael and I began to think seriously about what we wanted to get out of our remaining seven days. We both decided that we wanted to, as an experiment, see what happened if we poured the vast majority of our time, effort, emotional energy and prayer onto a single household in an intense effort to lead them to salvation. The heart change required for salvation comes only from God, of course, but if we were truly to be honest in our self-analysis, we would be forced to admit that we usually do not put forth an effort that is demonstrative of our supposed views of eternity.
When deciding which household to pour this effort onto, the answer was obvious: the household that had told us we were welcome back at any time. Motivated to preach the full and unhindered Gospel of Jesus Christ, we headed to the market to buy them juice, fruit, and various snack items as a fellowship offering, before walking the fifteen minutes to their house. On the walk over, we prayed to God for the boldness to say what we had been too timid to say before.
As we rounded the corner onto the dirt road that led to their house, however, our hearts sank when we noticed that though the neighboring children were carrying on with business as usual—laughing, holding younger siblings, and hand-washing clothes—there were absolutely no signs of life coming from Sridhar and Deepa’s house. We waited for a few minutes and still saw no signs. It was an incredibly anti-climatic experience.
As we walked home, we realized that we would truly have to fight tooth and nail for this household—it would not be easy, nor was it designed to be. When we got back to the missions house, we labored in prayer and petitioned God to lead us to their house at a time when they were actually home. We told God that we would go back to their house however many times it would take—even if that meant going back to check twenty five or thirty times over the course of the week.
Later that afternoon, we gathered up our groceries once more and walked back to their house. Again, it was the same story. No signs of life came from the house. And again, we returned and petitioned God to lead us there at a time when they were actually home.
We woke up the next morning and walked to their house, groceries in hand, for a third time. Again, no signs of life were shown. This time, we decided to ask the neighbors where they were. Their thirteen-year-old neighbor, Asha, who had gotten to know us in an almost comical sense as we had stopped by the house so many times, broke the bad news to us. Not only were they out of Bangalore, but also they were at a multi-day Hindu festival. When we asked her if she had any idea when they would be back, she responded, “I don’t know. It will be many days…but definitely not by tomorrow…” We left a short written note outside of their house for them, but it certainly seemed as if our hopes were dashed.
It was at this point that we realized we had come to a crossroads and that one of two scenarios existed. Either God was thanking us for our willingness but shutting the door at the current time, or God was arranging the situation in such a way that He would be most glorified. Realizing we were at a literal dead end, Michael and I decided to forgo dinner to fast and pray for God to act in a huge way. We openly admitted our own uselessness in the situation—after all, we didn’t even know what city they were in! It could quite plausibly be the case that we would leave Bangalore in four days and never see them again.
After openly admitting our own inabilities, we told God that we would “slide all of our poker chips into the center of the table” by praying two, huge, distinct prayers. First, we prayed that He would bring them home early from the Hindu festival; that somehow, someway, He would bring them home early. Secondly, we prayed that while they were at the Hindu festival, that they would feel no peace—that their souls would be restless. We also prayed a very, very foolish prayer in which we asked God to punish us and do so severely if He should give us the opportunity we had been begging for, yet we should fail to preach the full Gospel.
We decided not to go back to their house the next day because, after all, Asha had told us that they would, at the very minimum, not be back that day. Something inside of me felt the urge to go back in the morning, however, just to check and see if our note to them was still there. Perhaps the breeze and dust had blown it away. As I rounded the corner onto their dirt road, tears welled up in my eyes (and anybody who knows me knows I am not an overly emotional person) as I saw Sridhar working out front. Praise be to God, the answerer of prayers.
As soon as he saw me, he immediately called to me (“Mr. Ben!”), and invited me inside. He sat me down and bombarded me with an array of coffee, juice, and crackers. “So,” I asked him, subtly prying for answers, “Asha told me that you were at a multi-day Hindu festival.”
“Yes, yes,” he replied, “Deepa and I were there. But we decided to come home early.” Incredible. “I saw your note,” he continued, “and I was honored. I wrote you back a note as well.” He handed me a hand-written note, much longer than the two-sentence one we had written him. As I took the note, what intrigued me was neither the fact that he had written us a note, nor the fact that it was quite lengthy, but rather the fact that he had kept the note inside of his house, rather than placing it outside of his door for us to pick up if either one of us happened to swing by in the next few days. “I’ve been expecting you, Ben,” he replied—it was as if he had read my mind.
“I believe God sent you to me as a messenger,” he said outright, sending chills down my spine.
“Yes, I certainly believe so, too.” I replied, almost under my breath, as I skimmed his note. Then, there it was; halfway down the backside of the page: “As you know, I come from a Hindu background. However, I feel no peace.” I almost dropped the page. God was two for two today. I knew it was my turn to act. “Have you ever read the Bible?” I asked.
“Never,” he responded “But I desire to.” I asked him if he wanted to read it that day and he did, so I told him to give me thirty minutes to run home to get my Bible. I literally ran back to the base in my Chaco sandals, khakis, and plaid button-up shirt, grabbed my Bible, and ran back. We read verses from the “sermon on the mount” (Matthew 5), and finally, Mathew 11:28-30: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” I would point to the words and he would read them slowly aloud. It was such a blessing to see him read the words, pausing between thoughts to truly let the meaning soak in.
The verses clearly struck a chord deep down inside of him—as the scriptures should. Finally, after a few minutes of silently praying to God for courage, I told Sridhar that I had news for him that though he might not like to hear, he needed to hear. Then, I preached the full Gospel to him—not only that Jesus died on a cross to forgive the sins he was unable to atone for himself, but also that because Jesus is the only true God that exists, he cannot be worshipped alongside other “gods”.
When I asked if he was willing to accept this, he said absolutely, but that it would take him time because his entire family is Hindu. This, of course, is completely understandable. My selfish motives did admittedly did want to see him get saved and baptized on the spot, but I knew that we had been faithful to the task God had called us to. We found out that he desired a Bible of his own and wanted to learn from it as well, so that afternoon we bought him an English Bible and his wife a Kanaada (the local language) Bible.
We spent the next morning, at their request, teaching both them and their neighbors out of the book of Matthew. We would read a full chapter aloud and then expand upon the Biblical concepts from the given chapter. It was exhilarating to read the stories about Jesus’ birth, John the Baptist, and The Lord’s Prayer with a group of people experiencing them for their first time. It was a great picture of training in righteousness.
Lastly, we handed the relationship over to our friend Manoj at YWAM this afternoon. Manoj will visit them weekly to teach them out of the Bible, pray for them, and serve them in any way possible. We can now leave Bangalore tomorrow morning knowing that, though we were sad to leave this relationship, it would be in good, consistent hands.
I fully expect and look forward to the day when Manoj will send Michael and I an e-mail, written in all capital letters, excitedly telling us that Sridhar and Deepa submitted to the Lordship of Jesus Christ for their salvation and were baptized.
We prayed and God acted. All glory goes to God! Two tired soldiers reporting from the field—we’ll see you in Nepal!
