As the prayer finishes, a young man in
the corner looks up smiling. He came from a closed country in Asia I
can’t name. When he left, the police threatened the young man that
he would be arrested if he met with any Christians. Undaunted, he is
here and praying with us.
The man, who is part of a small,
secret cell group of Christians in this closed country, has already
been arrested three or four times by the government, who forced him
to pay a fine of up to $50 to get out, a huge sum in a country where
the average worker earns less than $100 a month.
We finish our meeting and head back on
dirt roads through orchards growing everything from peppers to rubber
trees to durian. When we get to the hotel, the team of 30 or so
Americans are just finishing up a meeting that mirrored our own. New
Life is still a relatively small organization, and has to rely on
foreign teams for the personell and funding to do large evangelistic
outreaches. At the open air meeting tonight, they are expecting over 1,000
people and may get up to 5,000.
By 5:30, the stage is set up for the
meeting and people are arriving. Little girls stand on the seat of
motorbikes while their mothers us the bikes as chairs. The stage
itself was purchased by New Life a few years ago, allowing them to
put on these large open air meetings for much less cost. Standing around it is
the leadership, who is praying hard against the darkly ominous
rainclouds looming just beyond. I recognize the old grandfather who
sat next to me at the prayer meeting. He is wearing a denim shirt.
A camo-patterned hat frames his dark, weathered face.
At 5:40 the clouds open and the rain
starts falling. Most of the motorbikes leave at the first sign of
the rain, but the children who stay behind run underneath the stage
as the rain and wind crash against the tarp and stage. The field is
full of inch deep puddles. The only one not underneath the
protection of the stage is the old grandfather. He weaves
unconcerned around the puddles, his hands clasped behind his back,
the rain dripping from his camo-patterned hat. The rain falls strong
for half an hour before the leadership admits defeat.
