Perisseia

Another thing I thought a lot about this summer was contexualization. Contexualization basically means adapting to different contexts. In ministry we use this term to describe how we need to adapt ourselves as well as our approach if we want to communicate the gospel to a context (or culture) different than our own. I noticed as soon as I returned back to the US this summer that this principle is as much necessary in the US as it is in India. Our American church forms and styles would be just as foreign to many young people in America as they are in India!! I talked to someone last week who teaches in public schools and has had whole classrooms of kids who didn't know what a church or a pastor was! And, this is in the rural mid-west... imagine urban cities! This means that already we have a generation of Americans that are not even nominally identified with the Christian "culture" of America. What we need to remember is that our Lord, our Guru, adapted himself to us so that he could communicate his love to us. So, if we want to communicate effectively, we need to start thinking about how to communicate to this new culture in America. We can not expect that they will hear and understand the gospel in the way that we once did. They are not going to show up as a visitor in a Sunday morning church service. So... how are they going to hear??

Today Priya came to my house. It's Easter Sunday, but it's hard to tell. I lit some diyas (oil lamps) and incense this morning during my morning devotions, but other than that nothing out of the ordinary. Priya is always telling me that something is not right in her heart. Outside things are not right either. Priya's older sister's marriage needs to be arranged, she's pushing thirty and there's little money for her dowry. Her oldest brother is not working, he's depressed and possibly oppressed (spiritually). The second oldest, also not earning, is divorced and he does puja (ritual worship) all day long and doesn't speak to anyone. One other brother is working, but his job is seasonal... and now is not the season. Her father, such a kind man, has a medical store which was once very successful and now might as well be shut. Their current house is really small and unfinished. All these things weigh on her mind... along with her studies (she has exams right now). I always wonder what I should say to her. I want her to understand how much He loves her and all that He did for her. I want Him to lift these burdens from her and reveal Himself. She's my closest H*ndu friend and she comes to me for "help" (at least it seems that way). I wish I could tell her that I have peace all the time, but lately I'm feeling down and discouraged too. It's different though... because I know I'm taken care of. I know that the God of the Universe is not so distant... He's not unknowable... nor is found in small images that can be put on a shelf. She shared again her worries. I asked if I could share a story with her. The story was told this week in the satsang (house fellowship). Normally she would have been there to hear it, but she couldn't come. The man who leads the satsang is of her same caste and their houses are in the same neighborhood. She's been going there with me for a couple months now. This week he told a H*ndu story. The elephant Gajendra is a king, who's very mighty and has 100 wives. All the other animals humble themselves before him. One day he's walking in the jungle with his wives and children. As they are playing he comes upon a large pond. He goes in to cool down. Spraying water about in a fountain he moves into the pond. As he moves deeper in suddenly a crocodile bites his leg! He pulls and yells, but can't pull free. He cries for help... and his attendants come running. Everyone pulls and pulls, but nothing happens. The crocodiles' grip is too powerful. Eventually every goes and Gajendra is left alone. Still he tries... pulling and squirming all day long. One thousand years pass by like this until one day he remembers... "Perhaps there's one name I can call on". So he prays, "God, have save me!" Instantly a bolt comes from heaven and slices off the crocodiles head. Gajendra is amazed and says, "Lord, I've been sitting here for one thousand years! Why today did you save me?" God replies, "For one thousand years I've been waiting for you to call my name." After the story had been told in the satsang, some verses were read. "While we were still sinners Chr*st died for us" and "If a child asks his father for bread, would he give him a stone?" and "Knock and the door will be opened..." Then there was some discussion... people talked about how proud we are and think that we can save ourselves. That crocodile is like sin... and none of us can get free from it without His mercy. I shared this story with Priya... and I talked a bit about how Yeshu had to die and that God had promised one man (Abraham) that someone from his offspring would bless all nations, etc. Later we prayed. I prayed first, thanking Him for all that He did for us, confessing that we're proud and sinful. She quietly affirmed what I said, "Yes". Then she prayed, speaking of how much we need Him. Then I prayed for her and her family. Asking for Him to give her peace in her heart. Then she prayed for another friend of ours, whose mother was recently injured. Then I closed the prayer... in the name of Sad Guru Yeshu (Jesus, the True Guru). She stayed for a few more hours. We made food together and listened to music. A conversation about my stomach problems confirmed I have worms. After she left I decided to watch The Passion of the Chr*st. I set it up on my computer and started watching. As Jesus is falling down, unable to bear the cross up the hill, my neighbors are doing their evening puja on the other side of the wall. They're ringing a bell in front of their idols. "Their worship should be for You, the Image of the Invisible God", I think. About then the disk started skipping and I missed the rest. At least I know there's a good ending. It still doesn't feel like Easter, but I'd much rather be here, sharing the story with Priya than watching a pageant with 400 people who've seen it a couple dozen times. Tomorrow is Monday, and Hindi classes. One year ago I could only stumble through the basics "What's your name?", "I'm from America", "No, the fare is 10 rupees!!" etc. I wish I was more fluent, but today I could do it... share the story, read from the Hindi B*ble, and pray. Priya understands a bit of English I think, but we wouldn't be friends if I couldn't speak Hindi. I love being with her and her family because I don't feel foreign at all with them. They treat me like I'm part of the family. It's worth it just for them.

[I nearly entiled this posting "Easter is a pagan holiday", but I resisted the temptation. Also some names have been changed to protect the innocent.]