March 26, 2000
Today, we participated in the largest outdoor gathering I've ever seen. Thousands & thousands of Indians arrived, swarming around hastily erected lights and speakers that reached back the length of a football field or two.
We arrived after dark, and the heat was far more bearable. A breeze even blew through the crowded field. Refreshing!
On the platform, 50 little Indians in suits and mustaches buzzed around, setting up chairs, while five or six others "tested" the microphones.
Thousands of people stuck their fingers in their ears as the large sound system cracked, distorted, and whistled. Funny how even big ministries sometimes don't grasp the principles of feedback.
The meeting started with an abnormally lengthy but passionate prayer in Telegu, the local dialect, lasting 8 or 9 minutes. The preacher's eyes were squinted shut so tight, and his fist pumped in every direction as he made his petition.
Finally, the music started with a really cool drum beat. I'd never heard drums like that before. They made noises and tones that slid up and down the musical scale. The drums appeared to have typical drum skin on top, with rubber circles in the middle. A beat on the drum, followed by a slide of the palm's heal on the rubber, makes a sound I just love!
In fact, I think I smiled through the entire music, forgiving the shrill singing for the sheer pleasure of hearing those crazy cool drums with their cartoonish tones.
The field smelled like dust & diesel exhaust from the large generator behind the platform. The thousands of Indians, some who had walked for a couple days to be here, stood or sat patiently through the service.
After the very loud praying, very loud music, and very loud preaching, a call to respond was given.
"Jesus as your God, and Jesus as your only God!"
Indians have over 3 million gods, and many will accept Jesus as simply one among many. However, the preacher made it clear that night that all other gods were false, powerless creations of men.
"With one batch of cement, you form a god that you worship, and lay a sidewalk you walk on! With the same piece of wood, you carve an idol to whom you pray, and throw the other half in the fire for fuel! See, we have been deceived -- we worship creation rather than the Creator, but the Creator is merciful and waiting for you to recognize Him. His name is Jesus, and only He can hear you; only He can save you; and He wants to tonight!" the Preacher pleaded.
Across the field, weeping broke out. I saw several men prostrate on the ground, clenching the orange dust with their fists, tears pooling below their heads.
"Jesus, Creator, Savior," our translator said they were crying.
Indian women sat by the hundreds, tearful eyes closed and heads tilted sideways, silently mouthing prayers, hands lifted high.
I've never seen anything like it. It was a holy moment.
There was an occasional scream and some excitement in various corners of the field; I wasn't quite sure what was happening. Later this evening, some pastors explained a man regained vision in his eyes, and one who was lame since birth with a muscle-less leg gained pounds of new muscle as the leg "inflated like a balloon".
Miracles like that are like UFO sightings - not saying I don't believe in them-- it's just I never see them for myself. Maybe one of these days!
Indian ministers made their way through the crowd, collecting information to follow up and plant churches near new converts.
We were asked to pray God's blessings over people, and did so gladly. In spite of their abject poverty, as I laid my hands on their tiny heads & silky black hair, I like I was blessing royalty. And I suppose I was -- new brothers and sisters, children of the King.
I was humbled, honored, and felt utterly unworthy. But then I felt something like electricity, the power of God, the blessing from above, flowing through me into these precious people! What a rush!
As my friends and I laid hands on them, some smiled almost bigger than their cheeks would allow, some jumped high like pogo sticks, some grabbed our hands and fell forward, overwhelmed. Some simply stood in what looked like perfect peace, saying, "thank you, thank you Jesus, thank you." The elderly leaned into me, some so bony all I could feel was skeleton, and hugged me. It went on and on. Some who I think were sick grabbed my hands and put them on the afflicted parts of their bodies -- they were not shy! They (the entire crowd) were thankful, grateful, brimming with new life.
A small pile of trinkets, idols, and fetishes grew towards the rear of the field. These cheap god-immitations formed quite a mound, and I noticed before too long, it was on fire. As the crowd began to dissipate back into the night, returning to their villages, many tossed these small necklaces and pocket idols into the fire as they walked past. Afterwards, each person breathed a sigh of relief -- as though they were releasing a weight they'd been carrying a long time.
All in all, it was a great night. Could this be a little what it was like after Jesus preached to multitudes? If this is just a glimpse of what missions could be, I could get used to it. Change some things, sure. But tonight, I feel so alive and want to do it all again... maybe not so loud next time.
God, bless those church planters, and bless India!
