We have arrived at our ministry sight in Manipur, India, and have spent a few days here.
The brief flight from Kolkata to Imphal was basically spent talking myself into being okay about having squatty potties all month. I decided to brave the restroom when we arrived at the tiny Imphal airport—bad idea. No TP, toilet seats covered in bodily emissions, etc. Yeah, okay. I’ll be honest. This was the India I was expecting. Dirty, smelly, and crowded. This is the point in my blog post where my Mom would tell me I need an attitude adjustment. Well, Mama, you’re not wrong about that. I had been dreading India from day one.
We rode for an hour in a van with a very sweet driver who had a lead foot and a very liberal personal policy on horn usage. Terrifying, but we made it. We rode up a mountain and ended up next to a brick house, not dissimilar from my grandmother’s. There were couches and there was also a fireplace waiting for us inside. We were all wide-eyed with excitement. Couches. A fireplace. I seriously doubt that magical combination has ever happened on the Race before. It was kind of like a dream. We were served chai tea and cookies and prayed over. Then we were shown to where we’d be staying for the evening. It’s a big, brick building with a glass cross through the middle of it. We were shown to our rooms and the only word I can think of to describe the emotion I felt is ASTONISHED. There were 3 beds in each of them, and each of them boasted its own bathroom with a western toilet and a shower (cold, but in month 7 of the Race, most people have built up an immunity to cold showers). The location is beautiful, seriously beautiful and reminiscent of the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina.
This is a great place to be. Jesus is alive and well and at work in Manipur and it is evident in every word that is said and every move that is made by our contacts. Our gracious hosts have provided for us ample avenues for ministry, each of them under the supervision of a mature Christian who has lived and worked in the community for a long time. I feel at ease here. The weather is lovely, there are plenty of ministry opportunities, the people are wonderful, the accommodations are amazing, and we get fed ridiculously well. It is the epitome of ideal. It is nearly effortless for me to feel excited about what each day will hold. What magical thing, I wonder when I wake up, will happen in Manipur today? It feels like a safe place to experiment with sharing the gospel, to try out new methods and techniques under the guidance of our hosts. This month is what I have started calling a “pre-packaged” or “lunchable” ministry month. And I want you to HEAR ME WHEN I SAY THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH FINDING FULFILLMENT IN THIS KIND OF MINISTRY. Nothing. I am merely pointing out that my temptation is to find joy and satisfaction in the avenue of ministry rather than in Jesus himself and in sharing his message of redemption.
*What happens when ministry doesn’t look like this? What happens when it’s a grueling month of sharing the gospel and instead of conversions to the faith you’re met with more questions than you feel equipped to answer? What happens when you’re in a closed country and you cannot openly share the gospel, but instead have to plant yourself in a community long-term and pray that God will open hearts and doors for you to speak into? What happens when you have to use a squatty potty, sleep on the ground in a tent, take cold bucket showers, have a $3/day food budget, and get eaten alive by mosquitoes all month? What happens when God calls you to a country where people believe they can just tack on worshiping the God of the bible to the rest of their idol worship because their culture taught them to be reverent of all gods, so they don’t understand that he is jealous for our whole hearts?*
Isn’t this what the disciples were up against after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension and the coming of the holy spirit? They forged their own path into the great unknown. They weren’t typically welcomed to an area with warm hospitality. No, indeed. The apostle Paul comes to mind, facing shipwrecks, imprisonment, beatings and eventually death for the furthering of the gospel. Per his example (and his charge to follow him as he follows Christ), I have, in these few days in Manipur, felt the need to evaluate where my joy comes from. Does my joy stem from western toilets, big, soft beds, and hot water for bathing or does it stem from the heart knowledge of the grace and salvation that are mine in Christ Jesus? Does my hope lie in having lots of lunchable ministry opportunities and is it depleted when door to door evangelism or an unplanned sharing of the gospel arises? Am I more grateful for the chance to share the gospel with people I assume will be receptive or do I treat people equally, knowing that Jesus can and will save whomever he pleases?
It’s disappointing to me that I have gotten rid of most of my material possessions and I still struggle with finding peace and contentment in creature comforts rather than in the gospel. The good news is that everyone in the world needs to hear the gospel. There are just as many people where the toilets are western who need to hear the gospel as there are where the toilets require squatting. There are both American, intellectual atheists and indigenous, spirit-worshiping, remote tribal peoples who we are called to share with. There are people who are jaded by the treatment of Christians and the church and there are people who have never set foot inside a church. This is our charge: to share Jesus with the world.
Whether they ___________ us
Reject
Condemn
Ostracize
Mistreat
Bully
Disrespect
is irrelevant.
Whether we have ____________ or not
Great toilets
Great food
Great weather
Beds
Hot showers
Open hearts
is irrelevant.
Our call is to share Jesus. His message of grace must take priority over all else, even (and sometimes especially) our own comforts and preferences. My heart should leap at the opportunity to share the gospel, whether it’s in a mud hut or in the most luxurious building imaginable.
My life is not, nor has it ever been, about me. It’s about the King of Glory.
