When we met the V.B.S. teachers for prayer, Dr. Isaac, one of the seminary teachers, had something to say. He announced it was Beka's and my first wedding anniversary. What better way to spend it than surrounded by children, he mused. He proceeded to wish us two hundred godly children. I was thinking one or two eventually, but thanks.
Ashish asked where I was from in America. I answered with the standard response of "New York, not the city."
"Is that near New Jersey?" he asked.
Maybe three hours away.
"Is it near Texas?"
Not exactly.
We settled on it being closer to New Jersey.
I wanted to take a picture for the second class. One teacher tried to direct the children to stand together. The boys and the girls didn't take too well to that. I took pictures of the individual sides. It makes a better story anyway.
I spent the entire afternoon preparing a sermon for the evening service. Shajy asked me around four if I'd be willing to share something. I had about two hours.
I told him I could come up with something.
"Be prepared in season and out of season", he replied.
I wanted to say I'm not a preacher, but I don't think that would translate as a good excuse.
I tried my best to write legibly, since Shajy would have to translate the message as I preached.
We decided I could play "Sanctuary" on the guitar for the special music. I'm not a musician either, but see the retort above. No excuse.
It was time for the service. We sang a few hymns, then it was the visitors' turn. I played "Sanctuary" and Beka, Alexa and I sang it through twice. I missed a chord here and there, but somehow we survived.
The V.B.S. teachers shared the popular Mizo song with less shouting. They didn't have the kids for volume. It still sounded great.
Shajy had my hand-scribbled notes during the hymns, roughly ten minutes to preaching.
Them's skills if you can work that quickly.
It was time to preach. I stood behind the pulpit, next to Shajy with our shared notes and dueling microphones. Somewhere between twenty and thirty people looked back at us. I didn't bother to count.
I thanked everyone who worked with us at V.B.S. for being a blessing and mentioned the blessing of being in India. Shajy translated.
I shared a little about our school and the fruits of the Spirit using Galatians 5:16-26. To add some time, I read through some other verses as well. Thank you, cross-references.
I don't enjoy preaching in the least. I prefer dialogue to monologue any day. This night, however, it didn't cross my mind. God said what He wanted to.
I ended with verse 26 and the warning not to be prideful or compare to others. Help each other toward Christ, the common goal. I hope it translated okay.
When it was over, Dr. Roy prayed and we dismissed. Shajy drove us to Dr. Roy's house for a nice late supper.
It did occur to me how unselfish Dr. Roy and Shajy are as pastors. Most pastors I know keep their pulpits locked up like Fort Knox. To encourage a visitor they just met to share something shows a lot of trust. I'm just glad I didn't try it on my own.
While we waited for our huge, delicious meal, Dr. Roy's wife had a surprise for Beka and me. Plum wedding cake. Not content with that, they ushered us up front and for the third time in our life together we fed each other wedding cake. It is the charm, as they say. With plums.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
India Trip Day 4
Our V.B.S. experience that day was brief but fun. We sang songs for what seemed like an hour, some familiar and some invented by the seminary students who taught. Young people turned around to see if we were doing the motions. We did our best.
The teachers and children come from different states. One young woman's state has a lot of tribal fighting. "She comes from a rough place," Shajy stated.
Everyone communicated in English. It served as the common language.
Most of the songs were in English. We also sang a song in Hindi, Mizo, Kannada and Malayan. The song leader was born in Myanmar,and Mizo is his main language. That was the most popular song as it involved shouting.
Whether they understood the songs or not, the kids seemed to enjoy them. I'm sure the shouting factored in to that.
The boys and girls sat on opposite sides of the church building. The teachers did the same regardless of where they met. It took a while, but I adjusted.
After singing we followed the teachers of two different Intermediate classes. I sat in one with two seminary students and children ages 12 to 14. At first, I didn't know if I could visit the girl's side to talk. But I got over my cultural ignorance eventually.
Both the teachers were men, so I followed their examples. International crisis averted.
We did two 45 minute lessons. I started the first one and sort of took over the second. Not by choice, mind you.
One boy, Ashish, was equally interested in the lessons and this strange American in his class. He tried to figure out where I live in Korea. After no small effort on both our parts I admitted it's not as well-known as Seoul. He bobbled his agreement.
The bobbles in this group resembled a side-to-side movement. It threw me off at first. I repeated instructions a few times before I figured it out.
For the second class the boys drew a picture of godly people and the girls drew the ungodly people. The godly people were a happy-looking bunch, but most of the ungodly had horns. One looked innocent enough, but a bit grumpy. Under it a girl wrote, "He may kill someone." Okay, that's scary.
After classes we all returned to the church building. It was time for me to share a devotional with everyone.
After we sang a few songs, I heard my name and walked forward. I grabbed a cordless mike and asked the children what they learned. I added 2 cents here and there, but they did most of the talking.
The boys were eager to answer first, but the girls warmed up to it eventually. There were 200 kids, so I can't say everyone had a chance to talk. But I tried to get as close as we could.
As I went to my seat, a young man smiled and said "Good speech." As long as I'm not doing the talking, I agree.
We met with the Vice Principal of Little Rock Indian School. It teaches elementary through high school. The workload is sufficient for students, but the homework is light. That would be nice.
I heard the best reason for having uniforms. Some students may be able to dress nicer than others due to gaps in class systems. Uniforms lessen the issue.
The teachers also wear uniforms at times. It's their goal to model simplicity. The vice principal chuckled as she noted students' comments to parents and in evaluations. "My teacher is simple." I can't recall the last time I considered that word a compliment.
Between classes one and two at V.B.S. the children had recess for a few minutes. One young man noticed my camera and asked, "Is it digital?" No, I replied. It's old-fashioned.
As he replied I realized my error. He said something to the effect of "It's still a nice camera."
I wonder when I started assigning so much value to things. It doesn't seem very simple.
Shajy drove us to his house for dinner. As we got closer to his house the windy narrow roads became more windy and narrow. Once we hit a thin, curved path of dirt we
were almost there. It was dark, so he flashed his lights generously. Thankfully, there wasn't any traffic so we didn't have to pull off the road.
We enjoyed dinner while we admired the art on the walls composed of scribblings. Shajy said that yes, this was his son's work. He couldn't discourage it because maybe Shine will become a famous artist someday. You don't want to hurt the potential.
Other than the artwork we didn't see many decorations. Our host especially pointed out the absence of crosses. Worshiping objects is a big deal in India; Shajy wanted to avoid that.
We asked about persecution. It's more on an individual basis or by extremist groups. The government is more worried about the extremists than anyone else.
We thanked Shajy and his wife, Betzy for dinner. Shajy drove us home, which gave us a chance to thank him a hundred more times or so. He and Shine saw us home, where we waved goodbye, said goodnight to each other and soon slept like logs.
The teachers and children come from different states. One young woman's state has a lot of tribal fighting. "She comes from a rough place," Shajy stated.
Everyone communicated in English. It served as the common language.
Most of the songs were in English. We also sang a song in Hindi, Mizo, Kannada and Malayan. The song leader was born in Myanmar,and Mizo is his main language. That was the most popular song as it involved shouting.
Whether they understood the songs or not, the kids seemed to enjoy them. I'm sure the shouting factored in to that.
The boys and girls sat on opposite sides of the church building. The teachers did the same regardless of where they met. It took a while, but I adjusted.
After singing we followed the teachers of two different Intermediate classes. I sat in one with two seminary students and children ages 12 to 14. At first, I didn't know if I could visit the girl's side to talk. But I got over my cultural ignorance eventually.
Both the teachers were men, so I followed their examples. International crisis averted.
We did two 45 minute lessons. I started the first one and sort of took over the second. Not by choice, mind you.
One boy, Ashish, was equally interested in the lessons and this strange American in his class. He tried to figure out where I live in Korea. After no small effort on both our parts I admitted it's not as well-known as Seoul. He bobbled his agreement.
The bobbles in this group resembled a side-to-side movement. It threw me off at first. I repeated instructions a few times before I figured it out.
For the second class the boys drew a picture of godly people and the girls drew the ungodly people. The godly people were a happy-looking bunch, but most of the ungodly had horns. One looked innocent enough, but a bit grumpy. Under it a girl wrote, "He may kill someone." Okay, that's scary.
After classes we all returned to the church building. It was time for me to share a devotional with everyone.
After we sang a few songs, I heard my name and walked forward. I grabbed a cordless mike and asked the children what they learned. I added 2 cents here and there, but they did most of the talking.
The boys were eager to answer first, but the girls warmed up to it eventually. There were 200 kids, so I can't say everyone had a chance to talk. But I tried to get as close as we could.
As I went to my seat, a young man smiled and said "Good speech." As long as I'm not doing the talking, I agree.
We met with the Vice Principal of Little Rock Indian School. It teaches elementary through high school. The workload is sufficient for students, but the homework is light. That would be nice.
I heard the best reason for having uniforms. Some students may be able to dress nicer than others due to gaps in class systems. Uniforms lessen the issue.
The teachers also wear uniforms at times. It's their goal to model simplicity. The vice principal chuckled as she noted students' comments to parents and in evaluations. "My teacher is simple." I can't recall the last time I considered that word a compliment.
Between classes one and two at V.B.S. the children had recess for a few minutes. One young man noticed my camera and asked, "Is it digital?" No, I replied. It's old-fashioned.
As he replied I realized my error. He said something to the effect of "It's still a nice camera."
I wonder when I started assigning so much value to things. It doesn't seem very simple.
Shajy drove us to his house for dinner. As we got closer to his house the windy narrow roads became more windy and narrow. Once we hit a thin, curved path of dirt we
were almost there. It was dark, so he flashed his lights generously. Thankfully, there wasn't any traffic so we didn't have to pull off the road.
We enjoyed dinner while we admired the art on the walls composed of scribblings. Shajy said that yes, this was his son's work. He couldn't discourage it because maybe Shine will become a famous artist someday. You don't want to hurt the potential.
Other than the artwork we didn't see many decorations. Our host especially pointed out the absence of crosses. Worshiping objects is a big deal in India; Shajy wanted to avoid that.
We asked about persecution. It's more on an individual basis or by extremist groups. The government is more worried about the extremists than anyone else.
We thanked Shajy and his wife, Betzy for dinner. Shajy drove us home, which gave us a chance to thank him a hundred more times or so. He and Shine saw us home, where we waved goodbye, said goodnight to each other and soon slept like logs.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
India Trip Day 3
We went to Dr. Roy's house for a huge breakfast. He told us about other ministries Priority One has in other parts of the country. Some missionaries get sued by extremist groups, and some get martyred.
There's religious freedom where we were, but if someone claimed you used bribery to convert people you could end up in court. So Vacation Bible School is plainly labeled and parents pay to send their kids. There's no doubt they know what it is.
After breakfast Shajy, an assistant pastor, showed us around the campus. He pointed out some rubber trees they grow on the property. They plan to make rubber and sell it. Between that and teaching, they're trying to make the ministry self-sustaining. "I don't make much money," Shajy joked at one point. "I'm in ministry."
Dr. Roy made a similar joke when he mentioned bribery. What would he bribe people with?
I thought how we were asked to help teach V.B.S. the following day. I decided I'd try not to bribe anyone.
Westernization is happening here, so some traditions are changing. The divorce rate is rising. However, Dr. Roy didn't completely blame Westernization. Getting a job right out of college and supporting oneself is easy nowadays. So divorce is rising.
Arranged marriages are still prevalent. Due to this even seminary and college students are discouraged from mixing. Boys and girls don't talk together much.
Parents research potential spouses for their children, searching back several generations. They often weigh in jobs as well; many couples here work together. Having the same job isn't required, but it helps.
The American in me cringes a bit at the thought of that much parental involvement, but the parents here take great care with it. In a way, it's kind of sweet.
Beka counted how many rupees we had left that evening. One thousand, or just under fifty bucks. That's what most teachers make in a month. And according to Dr. Roy, teachers make a good salary. It still amazes me how little we actually need.
We met some of the seminary teachers at a restaurant for dinner. We listened as they ordered using three different languages. Everyone knew English, and many knew Hindi.
But people come from different states, and each state has its own local language. Ordering food can be confusing.
In the end we got everything we ordered. At least I think we did.
There's religious freedom where we were, but if someone claimed you used bribery to convert people you could end up in court. So Vacation Bible School is plainly labeled and parents pay to send their kids. There's no doubt they know what it is.
After breakfast Shajy, an assistant pastor, showed us around the campus. He pointed out some rubber trees they grow on the property. They plan to make rubber and sell it. Between that and teaching, they're trying to make the ministry self-sustaining. "I don't make much money," Shajy joked at one point. "I'm in ministry."
Dr. Roy made a similar joke when he mentioned bribery. What would he bribe people with?
I thought how we were asked to help teach V.B.S. the following day. I decided I'd try not to bribe anyone.
Westernization is happening here, so some traditions are changing. The divorce rate is rising. However, Dr. Roy didn't completely blame Westernization. Getting a job right out of college and supporting oneself is easy nowadays. So divorce is rising.
Arranged marriages are still prevalent. Due to this even seminary and college students are discouraged from mixing. Boys and girls don't talk together much.
Parents research potential spouses for their children, searching back several generations. They often weigh in jobs as well; many couples here work together. Having the same job isn't required, but it helps.
The American in me cringes a bit at the thought of that much parental involvement, but the parents here take great care with it. In a way, it's kind of sweet.
Beka counted how many rupees we had left that evening. One thousand, or just under fifty bucks. That's what most teachers make in a month. And according to Dr. Roy, teachers make a good salary. It still amazes me how little we actually need.
We met some of the seminary teachers at a restaurant for dinner. We listened as they ordered using three different languages. Everyone knew English, and many knew Hindi.
But people come from different states, and each state has its own local language. Ordering food can be confusing.
In the end we got everything we ordered. At least I think we did.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
India Trip Day 2
We were breakfast. We were sitting in Bangalore airport, waiting for our final flight. We had arrived at 11-ish, and we got our bags at 1-ish. We had a few hours to catch shallow naps and be munched on by mosquitoes. Welcome to India.
When we arrived, a seemingly helpful group of airport staff took our bags to our waiting area. Upon arrival they demanded a tip. "$20." We gave them 10.
Maybe if I tipped all the mosquitoes they'd go away. Maybe not.
We spent the night in the airport. Our flight to Mangalore got listed on the board around 8:00 a.m. Nearly an hour later, we were free. Free to fly on another, smaller plane.
We pushed our way out of the plane and entered Mangalore airport, a cute little thing. We weren't quite sure how we would identify our contact. We collected our luggage, headed for the exit and walked to the man holding the cardboard sign with "Miles" written on it. That works.
We shoved all our luggage into a reasonably compact car and sealed ourselves in for the ride. Babu, a teacher at the seminary welcomed us as the driver introduced us to Indian driving.
He would drive on the left side of the road and cross over to pass slow-moving rickshaws. The ability to do so without colliding with oncoming traffic impressed me. More impressive is the fact that even slowing down seemed a last resort. Good driving.
As we drove down narrow windy roads and my ears were still popping from the flight, Beka and Alexa asked Babu some good questions. We saw big and small buildings next to each other. Were they houses?
Babu said that yes, they are. The rich and poor share neighborhoods.
The miles and miles of area we covered between the airport and Priority One India is fairly rural. We saw palm trees, cattle and wonderful, sweet grass. Green is so my favorite color.
We stopped at a restaurant for lunch about halfway there. We chatted with Babu while we ate for several minutes before we noticed something unusual. We all used silverware.
"Don't you use your hands to eat?"
"Yes, we like to," Babu answered.
He put the fork and the knife aside, and we tried to follow suit. The waiter seemed especially amused with my attempts and offered me a spoon. I smiled sheepishly and tried using my hands anyway. Eventually I cleaned my plate.
We rinsed our hands in bowls filled with warm water. There were lemons in there, either to help clean or to avoid dishpan hands. I'm not sure which.
During the last leg of our journey we saw a tent village. We saw kids standing out front, and I caught a glimpse of some older people as well. My stomach sank.
We arrived at Priority One and met Dr. Roy. He led us to the Windham House, the place we stayed in for the week. At first we were surprised to see marble floors. Was this a ministry? We found out later that marble is much cheaper in India.
We took naps, enjoyed some delicious spicy fish, curry, and pita-style bread for supper, then slept some more.
When we arrived, a seemingly helpful group of airport staff took our bags to our waiting area. Upon arrival they demanded a tip. "$20." We gave them 10.
Maybe if I tipped all the mosquitoes they'd go away. Maybe not.
We spent the night in the airport. Our flight to Mangalore got listed on the board around 8:00 a.m. Nearly an hour later, we were free. Free to fly on another, smaller plane.
We pushed our way out of the plane and entered Mangalore airport, a cute little thing. We weren't quite sure how we would identify our contact. We collected our luggage, headed for the exit and walked to the man holding the cardboard sign with "Miles" written on it. That works.
We shoved all our luggage into a reasonably compact car and sealed ourselves in for the ride. Babu, a teacher at the seminary welcomed us as the driver introduced us to Indian driving.
He would drive on the left side of the road and cross over to pass slow-moving rickshaws. The ability to do so without colliding with oncoming traffic impressed me. More impressive is the fact that even slowing down seemed a last resort. Good driving.
As we drove down narrow windy roads and my ears were still popping from the flight, Beka and Alexa asked Babu some good questions. We saw big and small buildings next to each other. Were they houses?
Babu said that yes, they are. The rich and poor share neighborhoods.
The miles and miles of area we covered between the airport and Priority One India is fairly rural. We saw palm trees, cattle and wonderful, sweet grass. Green is so my favorite color.
We stopped at a restaurant for lunch about halfway there. We chatted with Babu while we ate for several minutes before we noticed something unusual. We all used silverware.
"Don't you use your hands to eat?"
"Yes, we like to," Babu answered.
He put the fork and the knife aside, and we tried to follow suit. The waiter seemed especially amused with my attempts and offered me a spoon. I smiled sheepishly and tried using my hands anyway. Eventually I cleaned my plate.
We rinsed our hands in bowls filled with warm water. There were lemons in there, either to help clean or to avoid dishpan hands. I'm not sure which.
During the last leg of our journey we saw a tent village. We saw kids standing out front, and I caught a glimpse of some older people as well. My stomach sank.
We arrived at Priority One and met Dr. Roy. He led us to the Windham House, the place we stayed in for the week. At first we were surprised to see marble floors. Was this a ministry? We found out later that marble is much cheaper in India.
We took naps, enjoyed some delicious spicy fish, curry, and pita-style bread for supper, then slept some more.
Monday, April 14, 2008
India Trip Day 1
I had the "why I am I going somewhere- there's plenty to do here" crap rattling in my head for a solid two days prior to leaving. It's an indication that this trip was going to be great. It happens every time; I should be used to it by now.
The highlight of our flight to Hong Kong wasn't the movie. Michael Clayton couldn't compete with the tireless struggle between our flight attendant and the curtain. He got tangled, food cart and all. "Let me out!" he exclaimed. He eventually freed himself, claiming the victory. For a while.
Once in Hong Kong we had to leave the plane so they could clean it. We would board again an hour later. Helpful flight crew met us to hand us pieces of plastic with "Thai" written on them. Not satisfied, they slapped stickers on us that said the same. Properly labeled, we were ready to go.
The in-flight entertainment from Hong Kong to Bangkok was a little Indian girl. To any what-does-it-matter-where-she-was-from/we-are-the-world types who may exist, it matters because we're going to India. So there.
The poor child screamed her lungs out for takeoff and landing, but the rest of the time she smiled, waved at us and applauded a seatbelt. Fun stuff.
During the course of our four hour layover in Bangkok we treated ourselves to some BK. Somehow we ordered the KING size. Apparently, we said "Yes," to KING when the girl asked medium or KING. We interpreted it as "Medium OK?" I think we've been in Korea too long.
Sorry we wasted you, food. Please forgive us.
The highlight of our flight to Hong Kong wasn't the movie. Michael Clayton couldn't compete with the tireless struggle between our flight attendant and the curtain. He got tangled, food cart and all. "Let me out!" he exclaimed. He eventually freed himself, claiming the victory. For a while.
Once in Hong Kong we had to leave the plane so they could clean it. We would board again an hour later. Helpful flight crew met us to hand us pieces of plastic with "Thai" written on them. Not satisfied, they slapped stickers on us that said the same. Properly labeled, we were ready to go.
The in-flight entertainment from Hong Kong to Bangkok was a little Indian girl. To any what-does-it-matter-where-she-was-from/we-are-the-world types who may exist, it matters because we're going to India. So there.
The poor child screamed her lungs out for takeoff and landing, but the rest of the time she smiled, waved at us and applauded a seatbelt. Fun stuff.
During the course of our four hour layover in Bangkok we treated ourselves to some BK. Somehow we ordered the KING size. Apparently, we said "Yes," to KING when the girl asked medium or KING. We interpreted it as "Medium OK?" I think we've been in Korea too long.
Sorry we wasted you, food. Please forgive us.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Thoughts on India
We just got back from India on Sunday evening. Monday morning I had that surreal experience of entering my classroom and thinking, "What is this? This isn't my classroom." Whenever I come back to a place after a long trip, it seems like everything has been moved and turned inside out. I know this wasn't the case, but that's how it feels.
I can say without overstatement or cliche that the trip was a life-changing experience. We were uniquely stretched in ways both good and bad. Most of the bad involved big cities and airports, but that's just life.
It's funny how God works. You think you have a good idea of who you are, and what you can or can't do. He waits until you're fairly secure, then He subtly knocks it down. Something new happens, and you get to face a new challenge. You grow. You learn you really didn't know yourself so well after all.
I'll do my best to share the details in a series of posts. Until then, enjoy life.
I can say without overstatement or cliche that the trip was a life-changing experience. We were uniquely stretched in ways both good and bad. Most of the bad involved big cities and airports, but that's just life.
It's funny how God works. You think you have a good idea of who you are, and what you can or can't do. He waits until you're fairly secure, then He subtly knocks it down. Something new happens, and you get to face a new challenge. You grow. You learn you really didn't know yourself so well after all.
I'll do my best to share the details in a series of posts. Until then, enjoy life.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Just for giggles
We're off to India in less than 24 hours, but before that I thought I'd share a funny video from the Onion. Enjoy.
Hungry FDA Official Orders Massive Pot Pie Recall
Hungry FDA Official Orders Massive Pot Pie Recall
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)