Everyday I wake up in the same house, in the same bed with my four brothers and three sisters. My grandmother lives with us along with my aunt and uncle. We all are Muslim refugees from Bangladesh, now living in a small river valley in Northeast India. We are very poor. Our floor is dirt and our roof is made of palm tree leaves. The only income we get is from the fish we catch in the river and sell in the market. One of my brothers went to school for a few years in the Christian village of Saiphai across the river before he had to drop out because we need his help at home.
Each day is similar to the next, men go fishing, women work around the home, and us kids play. Except today, today was a little bit strange. The entire day was normal until the sun started to set, when all of a sudden 13 white people appeared from the river. I’ve never seen white people before. They were tall and pale with big white teeth and huge smiles. They all walked straight up to our house and shook my mom and grandmother’s hand and then they shook my hand. They were all so joyful it made my family and I joyful. They spoke English but they had a translator that asked my mom a few questions.
Some of them sat down with my brother and I and tried to play with us but noticed our eyes. I have a cyst on mine and my brother has cataracts. They then said something to the translator and the translator told my mom they wanted to pray over us, my mom agreed and they all immediately laid their hands on me and started praying over my brother and I. When they were done they continued playing with my brother and I and talking to my mom through the translator.
My Dad and brothers then came back from fishing and were very surprised to have 13 Americans at our home. My mom told them everything they had done and how friendly and loving they were. My dad tried to give them some of the fish they just caught but the Americans refused and told us they would rather eat with us. So my dad invited them back for a feast the next night and they agreed to it and they went on their way back across the river.
The next night came quickly and the funny looking, happy, white people came from across the river. I ran out to greet them and they embraced me with a big hug and immediately noticed my eye, it was healed! I had woken up this morning and the cyst on my eye was gone! They were all so happy to see us and my family was happy to see them too! We feasted on the day’s catch and laughed a lot because we couldn’t understand each other, but wow, was it fun! They sang and danced for us and took pictures with us. They were so loving.
There was something so different about them than anyone I’ve ever met, a spirit of such joy, love, compassion, and kindness. It was almost contagious when they were with us, they left my family that night making us feel so blessed, almost as if we were the only people in the world that mattered. They were Christians. I’ve lived across the river from an entire Christian village almost my whole life but Christians have never come and wanted to feast with us, they never wanted to know our names, they never wanted to pray for us. But, these white people from America who claimed to be Christian did. They took time to get to know us, even with a language barrier. They spoke the language of love, and the language of love knows no barrier. I know that now.
It makes me curious, curious about Christianity. Who is this God they serve? Who is Jesus Christ? Why are these ‘Christians’ unlike anyone I’ve ever met? What would ever posses wealthy white Americans to come and love dirt poor refugees like us? Christianity? Jesus? I don’t know… but there was something about them that I want.
So, yes, all of this actually happened. Our two teams were doing house visits and praying over families in the village of Saiphai. When we got to the bottom of the hill we noticed some very small houses scattered along the river valley. We asked our host/translator if those were Christian homes, he told us no, they were all the Hindus and Muslims that lived off the land and the river. We then asked if we could go to some them and we did. We came across a bigger family that we made particularly good friends with despite the language barrier and they invited us back the next night for dinner and so we attended and had a lot of fun loving on them and being lights without words. A very wise man (Bobby Leek- host from Ecuador) told me a quote he heard from another wise man, “Preach the gospel always, if necessary use words”. You see preaching the gospel isn’t about telling people about Jesus all the time, it’s about how we live our lives, that’s what makes the biggest impact on people. Although we weren’t able to pour into this family like we wanted to I believe God made a difference in their lives because of the way we lived ours. I am thankful for that.
