Well, here I am. Back in good old Papillion.
I forgot how blue and clear the skies are here. And I love the green and the openness. It's a nice feeling.
But I still don't like American television.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Almost Home
Dear friends and family and anyone else who reads this,
Today is my last full day in Mussoorie. Tomorrow in the afternoon I will leave this beautiful place, board a train for Delhi and fly back to the place I call home. The mountains that have come back to view after a heavy monsoon shower will be a memory. Driving lanes will suddenly safely separate me from oncoming traffic. "Fixed rate" prices will be the norm. The silly foreigner tax will be replaced with prices expensive for everyone! Haha.
I'm in this silly and confused state and I'm not sure what to think or to write. There is so much I have left to do and today is filled with scrambling here and there to pick up this and that and say goodbye to so and so.
I'm going to miss this place and the people I've met. That's about all I know.
I'm coming home. And leaving home. What a strange feeling. Maybe I'll cry later. Oh bother, you know men don't cry.
Can't wait to meet all you in the place I'm coming back to and to share with you some stories and pictures and love from India.
I hope this blog was a blessing to all who read it. I hope to continue to share thoughts as I reflect away from this place.
Love,
Harry
Today is my last full day in Mussoorie. Tomorrow in the afternoon I will leave this beautiful place, board a train for Delhi and fly back to the place I call home. The mountains that have come back to view after a heavy monsoon shower will be a memory. Driving lanes will suddenly safely separate me from oncoming traffic. "Fixed rate" prices will be the norm. The silly foreigner tax will be replaced with prices expensive for everyone! Haha.
I'm in this silly and confused state and I'm not sure what to think or to write. There is so much I have left to do and today is filled with scrambling here and there to pick up this and that and say goodbye to so and so.
I'm going to miss this place and the people I've met. That's about all I know.
I'm coming home. And leaving home. What a strange feeling. Maybe I'll cry later. Oh bother, you know men don't cry.
Can't wait to meet all you in the place I'm coming back to and to share with you some stories and pictures and love from India.
I hope this blog was a blessing to all who read it. I hope to continue to share thoughts as I reflect away from this place.
Love,
Harry
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Dear Sen. Ben Nelson,
Since I don't like to be "that guy" who complains about stuff but never takes action, I've written my Senator about the "Audit the Fed" bill that was recently blocked (by his doing) in the Senate. I would challenge you to look into the amendment S 604 and to investigate the Federal Reserve which prints our money and is as "federal" as any of our many "Federal Banks." It has run for far too many years under a veil of secrecy with no accountability. In a time where trillions of dollars just happen to "disappear" and our economy is squeezed by the weight of inflation and historical deficits, it is more important than ever for this action to be taken.
-----
Dear Mr. Nelson,
As a citizen of Nebraska and by association your constituent, I was appalled by your action on the Senate floor to prevent S 604 insertion into a recent bill. You were no doubt witness to Senator DeMint sharing of several other GAO audits that were contained in the bill of which the Senate President was forced to admit violated the same Senate Rule (16) in which you cited to block S 604. It was no surprise that those other violating audits remain in the bill.
The reason I am so concerned about this bill and your action is that an audit on the Federal Reserve is long overdue and is vital to providing transparency to this powerful and secretive "organization."
I would like to advise you that this is an important issue to Nebraskans who are tired of a government with almost zero accountability. All Nebraska House members have signed on as co-sponsors to the House version of the bill, HR1207.
Please show your support for the people's demand for governmental transparency by allowing the Federal Reserve to be audited. Please allow for a vote for S 604 to be amended to the Act Appropriations bill.
Harrison Staab
-----
Dear Mr. Nelson,
As a citizen of Nebraska and by association your constituent, I was appalled by your action on the Senate floor to prevent S 604 insertion into a recent bill. You were no doubt witness to Senator DeMint sharing of several other GAO audits that were contained in the bill of which the Senate President was forced to admit violated the same Senate Rule (16) in which you cited to block S 604. It was no surprise that those other violating audits remain in the bill.
The reason I am so concerned about this bill and your action is that an audit on the Federal Reserve is long overdue and is vital to providing transparency to this powerful and secretive "organization."
I would like to advise you that this is an important issue to Nebraskans who are tired of a government with almost zero accountability. All Nebraska House members have signed on as co-sponsors to the House version of the bill, HR1207.
Please show your support for the people's demand for governmental transparency by allowing the Federal Reserve to be audited. Please allow for a vote for S 604 to be amended to the Act Appropriations bill.
Harrison Staab
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
New Experience at Church
So church today seemed to be as normal as ever, or as normal as church gets in India. We were worshiping and people were praying. A few started speaking in tongues - normal, though still strange to me.
Suddenly a woman began screaming and thrashing about. People and chairs were moved out of the way and several men and women rushed to her to contain her. Worship continued though prayers grew louder and louder calling, I assumed, for her deliverance from whatever was tormenting her.
She continued to scream and flail her arms and was held to the ground as men and women lay hands on her and prayed for her. I couldn't tell if she was saying anything - in Hindi or otherwise.
Worship didn't stop and everyone in the church cried out for her deliverance. I closed my eyes and prayed with them. I had heard dozens of stories just like this from ministry leaders and our church pastor himself, but was not expecting to see anything like it. I don't know if it was shock or fear or the Spirit but I could sense a strange presence and all I could do was cry out to God for this woman to be saved.
For nearly 15 minutes, or at least that's how long I thought, the intensity grew as she continued to scream. Tears came to my eyes as I pleaded with God for Him to move in the place and to destroy the power of whatever evil in the room. I admit it was a strange prayer, but I can't deny the reality I faced.
She quieted and when I opened my eyes again she was back in her seat. People returned to theirs and worship continued for another song. Everyone sat down and church resumed.
This is the sort of thing I expected only to talk about, all the while stating "I'm not sure where to fit this in my box." Spirits - evil ones at that - are not even whispered about in our Western circles. We've heard stories like this, but they are always heard upon skeptical ears.
I know what I saw and I know this was not the random outburst of a confused woman. It was something far deeper than that.
While she was on the ground one of my friends noticed the pastor taking off her rings. And in the process of it all her plastic bangles shattered into many small pieces. This was very interesting to me because the pastor shared with me a few weeks ago about a woman tormented by a demon who claimed to live in her nose ring. And it wasn't until they removed the ring (with great effort) that the woman was delivered and in a right mind!
It will be interesting to chat with the pastor tomorrow and ask him what he felt and heard and experienced as he prayed with the others over her.
Suddenly a woman began screaming and thrashing about. People and chairs were moved out of the way and several men and women rushed to her to contain her. Worship continued though prayers grew louder and louder calling, I assumed, for her deliverance from whatever was tormenting her.
She continued to scream and flail her arms and was held to the ground as men and women lay hands on her and prayed for her. I couldn't tell if she was saying anything - in Hindi or otherwise.
Worship didn't stop and everyone in the church cried out for her deliverance. I closed my eyes and prayed with them. I had heard dozens of stories just like this from ministry leaders and our church pastor himself, but was not expecting to see anything like it. I don't know if it was shock or fear or the Spirit but I could sense a strange presence and all I could do was cry out to God for this woman to be saved.
For nearly 15 minutes, or at least that's how long I thought, the intensity grew as she continued to scream. Tears came to my eyes as I pleaded with God for Him to move in the place and to destroy the power of whatever evil in the room. I admit it was a strange prayer, but I can't deny the reality I faced.
She quieted and when I opened my eyes again she was back in her seat. People returned to theirs and worship continued for another song. Everyone sat down and church resumed.
This is the sort of thing I expected only to talk about, all the while stating "I'm not sure where to fit this in my box." Spirits - evil ones at that - are not even whispered about in our Western circles. We've heard stories like this, but they are always heard upon skeptical ears.
I know what I saw and I know this was not the random outburst of a confused woman. It was something far deeper than that.
While she was on the ground one of my friends noticed the pastor taking off her rings. And in the process of it all her plastic bangles shattered into many small pieces. This was very interesting to me because the pastor shared with me a few weeks ago about a woman tormented by a demon who claimed to live in her nose ring. And it wasn't until they removed the ring (with great effort) that the woman was delivered and in a right mind!
It will be interesting to chat with the pastor tomorrow and ask him what he felt and heard and experienced as he prayed with the others over her.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Prayer
A friendly reminder to pray always.
Working on pictures from VBS. Posted this one from it today, but should post many more in the next few days. Stories to follow.
But I'm still consumed by the happenings in Iran. I really would love to hear your thoughts, so please email me.
Maybe I'm just crazy.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Massacre in Iran
What happens when a people are slaughtered to the silence of those who can take action.
Does God's heart not break for the people of Iran?
Will there be no Justice.
Do you want a political reason?
A people free from an oppressive theocracy and a madman dictator like Ahmadinejad will ease tension in the Middle East. A people freed with the help of the US and the West will score big points against anti-American sentiment. We can be the good people and a young people who aren't blinded by hate will recognize us as friend, not enemy.
Do you want a moral reason?
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing" - Edmund Burke.
Do you want an economic reason?
Better ties with Iran make for economic partnership (aside from oil). More trade=better economy.
Do you want a human reason?
Iranians are humans too.
Do you want a New Age-y, feel good reason?
Give peace a chance, yo.
Do you want a Biblical reason?
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute." - Proverbs 31:9
"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land. Now my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place.es are upon you." - 2 Chronicles 7:14-15
"He saw that there was no one, he was appalled that there was no one to intervene; so his own arm worked salvation for him, and his own righteousness sustained him." - Isaiah 59:16
JESUS INTERCEDED FOR US.
"Streams of tears flow from my eyes because my people are destroyed.My eyes will flow unceasingly, without relief, until the LORD looks down from heaven and sees." - Lamentations 3:48-50
I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. - 1 Timothy 2:1-4
Pray.
Does God's heart not break for the people of Iran?
Will there be no Justice.
Do you want a political reason?
A people free from an oppressive theocracy and a madman dictator like Ahmadinejad will ease tension in the Middle East. A people freed with the help of the US and the West will score big points against anti-American sentiment. We can be the good people and a young people who aren't blinded by hate will recognize us as friend, not enemy.
Do you want a moral reason?
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing" - Edmund Burke.
Do you want an economic reason?
Better ties with Iran make for economic partnership (aside from oil). More trade=better economy.
Do you want a human reason?
Iranians are humans too.
Do you want a New Age-y, feel good reason?
Give peace a chance, yo.
Do you want a Biblical reason?
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute." - Proverbs 31:9
"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land. Now my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place.es are upon you." - 2 Chronicles 7:14-15
"He saw that there was no one, he was appalled that there was no one to intervene; so his own arm worked salvation for him, and his own righteousness sustained him." - Isaiah 59:16
JESUS INTERCEDED FOR US.
"Streams of tears flow from my eyes because my people are destroyed.My eyes will flow unceasingly, without relief, until the LORD looks down from heaven and sees." - Lamentations 3:48-50
I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. - 1 Timothy 2:1-4
Pray.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
My Eyes Are Set On Freedom #Iranelection
I'm still consumed by the demonstrations in Iran. Please, if you haven't yet followed it, please start. Learn about it. Talk about it. Email, tweet, post, share, whatever. Just please don't be silent.
Above all, pray.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Micah 6:8
He has showed you, O man, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 8:8
There is still blood running in the streets of Tehran. Have you taken notice? Do you love justice like God loves Justice? Do you pray for mercy as God has Mercy? Have you humbled yourself as Christ Humbled himself?
A girl named Neda was killed recently in Tehran. Maybe 17 years old, she was observing the protests with her father when she was sniped by rooftop gunmen. She was the clear target as there were few around her.
Neda means "VOICE" or "CALL" in Farsi.
Don't let the voice of the Iranians demanding justice go silent by corruption of evil men and the timidity of good men.
Read her story.
I'll write about VBS soon. But this is still too important.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 8:8
There is still blood running in the streets of Tehran. Have you taken notice? Do you love justice like God loves Justice? Do you pray for mercy as God has Mercy? Have you humbled yourself as Christ Humbled himself?
A girl named Neda was killed recently in Tehran. Maybe 17 years old, she was observing the protests with her father when she was sniped by rooftop gunmen. She was the clear target as there were few around her.
Neda means "VOICE" or "CALL" in Farsi.
Don't let the voice of the Iranians demanding justice go silent by corruption of evil men and the timidity of good men.
Read her story.
I'll write about VBS soon. But this is still too important.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Further Iran Urgings
Dear Friends,
I don’t know why I’ve become so impassioned by the situation in Iran but I feel a great responsibility to speak up and speak out. If you haven’t heard the news, Tehran has been in chaos since the election results were declared in Iran, naming Mahmoud Ahmedinijed the winner for another 4 years. There have been numerous allegations and it is becoming increasingly clear that his “victory” is fraudulent. More than a million people have taken the streets in peaceful protest – only to be met by violent police and military resistance. Tehran has completely crippled any mainstream news media from reporting accurately the events in the city – exactly what you would not expect from a “Democratically elected government.” In an election where 80% of the electorate voted, the country knows they have been ripped off.
This is not simply a matter belonging to some other country, some other place. In the events that take place in the coming days, so much is at stake. The security and stability of the Middle East, four more years of tension and hate-mongering by the holocaust denying Ahmedinijed, and a people – not much different than you and I – taken hostage.
I have no idea what to ask any of you to do but more than anything else I want you all to read about it and pray about it. Pray that the Truth would come out. That the world would respond to the atrocities of this corrupt and hateful regime. That somehow God would open the doors for the country to be open. For Iran to be free.
As Americans we heard so much talk about war with Iran during the election. Right now, in this very moment, the world has the opportunity to force a madman out of office without a single bomb. Please talk with your friends about it. Educate yourself about what the heck is going on. Email your friends and family. Talk to your kids for crying out loud so that they will understand what it means to live in a free country!
Dozens are reported dead by semi-official media releases. Images online and the twitterworld suggest more than a hundred. Many innocent have been jailed for speaking out in masse.
Force yourself to watch and share the clips on youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBp2p3MGJqw
Browse images taken by professional media and civilian Iranians: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/06/irans_disputed_election.html
Follow the “news” on Twitter since all we have are brave youth with cell phones: http://twitter.com/#search?q=%23iranelection
Change your profile pics on all your social network sites and spread the news. http://www.flickr.com/photos/harrystaab/3631624611/
Write letters to the editors, call congressmen, or find some other way to show your support and demand the world listen.
Like I asked before, I beg of you again – please pray. But don’t do nothing about this. God calls us to stand up for the oppressed and to speak out against injustice. Our human hearts understand this without a Bible. Please.
Harry
Iran again
Iran is not some country over there. It's not someone else's problem.
Please read and learn about the atrocities taking place this very moment. The immoral and irreprehensible behaviors of the Iranian government. Call upon our leaders to act! Support Iran justice in any way you can.
Follow the Twitter conversation.
Watch this short video essay.
Change your profile pics on your facebook/myspace/twitter/blogger/etc.
Talk to your friends about it.
PRAY ABOUT IT!
Think for just a moment. Four more years of the dictator Ahmedinejid means four more years of worrying about our country, oppression of the Iranian people, and continued suppression of the Gospel.
People are dying for freedom. They are taking the streets peacefully and getting brutally beaten.
DON'T BE SILENT!
Iran
This is my plea to those of you in my circle to please follow the happenings in Iran. It is a big fat deal and shouldn't be ignored. Talk about it, read about it, and please pray about it.
http://twitpic.com/7hsb4
And no, I am not in danger. I'm in India, not Iran.
http://twitpic.com/7hsb4
And no, I am not in danger. I'm in India, not Iran.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Big Dreams
What a wonderful day. I slept in til 11:00AM for the first time in a long time it seems. Called X (the VBS guy I've been talking about) and headed down the hill to meet with him. Found him near Clocktower, pulled out money from the ATM and presented him with Rs. 21,500 (more than $430) to purchase bibles. With that money, the 20 bibles he planned to take to the village for VBS turns into 96. God will do great things because of your prayers and generousity!
X invited me for lunch at his home. Of course I accepted. We sat and talked and dreamed big dreams. Dreams of what God might do with him and his ministry. How lives can be touched. How to grow. How to partner with churches and missions organizations around the world. The dreaming was contagious. It snowballed in such an exciting and magnificent way. He brought out plans developed by EMI for land they own an hour's walk from Mussoorie. How can we use the land for God's glory while we wait for funds? How can we trust God to provide but be faithful in pursuing connections and relationships and using all he's given us? How can the building process glorify Him? How can provide jobs and economic empowerment to villagers? How can we partner with church groups to provide them opportunity to take part in the process?
Something really cool was happening. Our eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. Ideas just flooded the table.
X wants to do so much. He currently runs a medical ministry that provides medical services (basic aid and medicine) to several villages north of Mussoorie. It takes him 1-3 hours just to hike to any of them and he does this most days of the week. There are no roads, the paths are rock, dirt, steep and narrow. He operates out of a two room apartment in the nearest of these villages. He ministers to people's physical and spiritual needs. He brings healing medicine and healing Truth. He takes care of widows who have no land and tries to give them work and housing. He is developing vocational training to give people valuable skills to market themselves. He puts on medical seminars to teach hygiene, sanitation, first aid. He provides Bible teaching and childrens' VBS events.
He runs on who knows what support. Everything is, as he puts it, "by faith." How will we pay for more medicine? I don't know, God gave me this mission, He will provide. How can we pay for this building project? I don't know, God will provide. How will we do this or that? God can do it, He can do anything.
Oh, how I wish I could dream so big - and believe it! To read Jeremiah 29:11, Matthew 17:20, or Luke 1:37 and to take hold of it! To believe with everything that God is as big as He claims to be and that He can make a way, or provide, or answer, or resolve, or redeem.
It's like when we were children dreaming of all the things we hoped to become. To fly to space, to make the Major Leagues, to be famous actors - but God has even BIGGER things in store for us. What would happen if we took hold of that and followed Him wherever he leads.
Our dreaming continued through lunch and then chai. So many dreams. So many uncertainties. But always the hope of the promise God gives to us.
I cannot wait for VBS next weekend. I cannot wait to interact with young people from a completely different culture (village Indians). I can't wait to share the hope I have that is Christ.
Be in prayer!
X invited me for lunch at his home. Of course I accepted. We sat and talked and dreamed big dreams. Dreams of what God might do with him and his ministry. How lives can be touched. How to grow. How to partner with churches and missions organizations around the world. The dreaming was contagious. It snowballed in such an exciting and magnificent way. He brought out plans developed by EMI for land they own an hour's walk from Mussoorie. How can we use the land for God's glory while we wait for funds? How can we trust God to provide but be faithful in pursuing connections and relationships and using all he's given us? How can the building process glorify Him? How can provide jobs and economic empowerment to villagers? How can we partner with church groups to provide them opportunity to take part in the process?
Something really cool was happening. Our eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. Ideas just flooded the table.
X wants to do so much. He currently runs a medical ministry that provides medical services (basic aid and medicine) to several villages north of Mussoorie. It takes him 1-3 hours just to hike to any of them and he does this most days of the week. There are no roads, the paths are rock, dirt, steep and narrow. He operates out of a two room apartment in the nearest of these villages. He ministers to people's physical and spiritual needs. He brings healing medicine and healing Truth. He takes care of widows who have no land and tries to give them work and housing. He is developing vocational training to give people valuable skills to market themselves. He puts on medical seminars to teach hygiene, sanitation, first aid. He provides Bible teaching and childrens' VBS events.
He runs on who knows what support. Everything is, as he puts it, "by faith." How will we pay for more medicine? I don't know, God gave me this mission, He will provide. How can we pay for this building project? I don't know, God will provide. How will we do this or that? God can do it, He can do anything.
Oh, how I wish I could dream so big - and believe it! To read Jeremiah 29:11, Matthew 17:20, or Luke 1:37 and to take hold of it! To believe with everything that God is as big as He claims to be and that He can make a way, or provide, or answer, or resolve, or redeem.
It's like when we were children dreaming of all the things we hoped to become. To fly to space, to make the Major Leagues, to be famous actors - but God has even BIGGER things in store for us. What would happen if we took hold of that and followed Him wherever he leads.
“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."
Matthew 6:31-34
Matthew 6:31-34
Our dreaming continued through lunch and then chai. So many dreams. So many uncertainties. But always the hope of the promise God gives to us.
I cannot wait for VBS next weekend. I cannot wait to interact with young people from a completely different culture (village Indians). I can't wait to share the hope I have that is Christ.
Be in prayer!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Bibles for Village VBS
For Rs. 280 ($5.60) you can provide a bible to be given to one of the 120+ children (ages 5-17) during VBS at a local village. The ministry putting this up only had resources to purchase 20 but with a little help from some friends (you know who you are) that has changed to nearly 80! If you want to sponsor some Bibles please let me know. Wouldn't it be so great to see a Bible in the hands of every child! I've been hearing that there is so much receptivity to the gospel in the hills nearby. Parents have even asked to sit in and learn during the VBS! People are curious about this Je$u$ fellow. And when they meet him, which they will with prayer and support of the ministries around here. How blessed we are and what great an opportunity to spread Truth, Hope, and Love.
Please email me: hstaab@gmail.com if you want to contribute. If you don't feel led to financially support, please, please, please pray that many would come and hear and accept the message of Truth!
Can't wait to share what God will do next weekend with VBS.
Please email me: hstaab@gmail.com if you want to contribute. If you don't feel led to financially support, please, please, please pray that many would come and hear and accept the message of Truth!
Can't wait to share what God will do next weekend with VBS.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Birthday in India
Yesterday, June 7, was my 22nd birthday, or 23rd if you are Indian I think. 'Twas great fun!
I slept in and nearly missed church. I felt terrible, but not enough to miss church. Church was packed with guests from Indiana. It was hot and stuffy and I rushed out for fresh air as soon as it was over. Not the best start to my birthday, feeling so weird and all.
My eMi friends who were still around took me to Clocktower Cafe, my favorite eatery, for lunch. I ordered a plate of spaghetti (yum). Ivy made me a handmade card with lots of encouraging notes in it and Ed gave me a framed picture from our first project trip - me surrounded by kids playing with my camera. I coulda cried, but men don't do such things. It makes it hard to see and punch things accurately.
After stuffed full, we walked back to Tipp and I sat and read some more Narnia. In two days I flew through Prince Caspian and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I'll be done with the Silver Chair tonight I suppose. We helped out our neighbor moving big heavy trunks and dressers and such. Didn't make me feel very good. But it was a good workout.
The guys left for a while and we were to meet back up for cake - CHEESECAKE! - later. The time passed and neither friends nor cake were present. But I kept reading. Ivy showed up and kept me company and we had a delightful conversation (we've had a few of those lately). As soon as she picked up her phone to call about the cake, it showed up. Not soon later, the guys were all around and the party began.
For the first time in a long time (or at least I think it was a long time) I blew out a candle on a cake. I had to share it (the two candles) with Ryan (as his birthday is in a week or so), but I suppose there are worse people to do such things with. More warm and fuzzies. Ryan busted out some blueberry jam and the cheesecake tasted like heaven.
Night fell and us interns headed "downtown" to meet more friends and shoot pool. We reminisced about birthdays along the way. The long walk wasn't a bother at all.
We found the hole-in-the-wall pool hall and played till our friends came - and played some more. I impressed with one or two great streaks but was overall pretty mediocre.
Management finally kicked us out about 11pm and we meandered back through the Mall (Mall road that is). We stopped at an arcade and played a game of intense air hockey. Ko and I held on to our lead in an exciting finish.
We grabbed gulab jamin (like a donut hole soaked in syrup) and headed back up to Tipp, being silly. Halfway up, when some of our friends split off, they broke into song: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU...! Like cats on a fence in the cartoons I was sure someone would throw a shoe at them. But it was great.
You know that phrase we use all too liberally, "I'll never forget this"? Well, I've said that countless times to events I've undoubtedly forgotten over the years, but I can't help but think this time its true. I'll never forget my birthday in India.
Another thing I just remembered. A lot of Christians around here, especially those born in the villages, don't know their real birthdays. So you know what they usually prefer to use and celebrate? Their baptism. How cool is that. Now that's a real birthday!
I slept in and nearly missed church. I felt terrible, but not enough to miss church. Church was packed with guests from Indiana. It was hot and stuffy and I rushed out for fresh air as soon as it was over. Not the best start to my birthday, feeling so weird and all.
My eMi friends who were still around took me to Clocktower Cafe, my favorite eatery, for lunch. I ordered a plate of spaghetti (yum). Ivy made me a handmade card with lots of encouraging notes in it and Ed gave me a framed picture from our first project trip - me surrounded by kids playing with my camera. I coulda cried, but men don't do such things. It makes it hard to see and punch things accurately.
After stuffed full, we walked back to Tipp and I sat and read some more Narnia. In two days I flew through Prince Caspian and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I'll be done with the Silver Chair tonight I suppose. We helped out our neighbor moving big heavy trunks and dressers and such. Didn't make me feel very good. But it was a good workout.
The guys left for a while and we were to meet back up for cake - CHEESECAKE! - later. The time passed and neither friends nor cake were present. But I kept reading. Ivy showed up and kept me company and we had a delightful conversation (we've had a few of those lately). As soon as she picked up her phone to call about the cake, it showed up. Not soon later, the guys were all around and the party began.
For the first time in a long time (or at least I think it was a long time) I blew out a candle on a cake. I had to share it (the two candles) with Ryan (as his birthday is in a week or so), but I suppose there are worse people to do such things with. More warm and fuzzies. Ryan busted out some blueberry jam and the cheesecake tasted like heaven.
Night fell and us interns headed "downtown" to meet more friends and shoot pool. We reminisced about birthdays along the way. The long walk wasn't a bother at all.
We found the hole-in-the-wall pool hall and played till our friends came - and played some more. I impressed with one or two great streaks but was overall pretty mediocre.
Management finally kicked us out about 11pm and we meandered back through the Mall (Mall road that is). We stopped at an arcade and played a game of intense air hockey. Ko and I held on to our lead in an exciting finish.
We grabbed gulab jamin (like a donut hole soaked in syrup) and headed back up to Tipp, being silly. Halfway up, when some of our friends split off, they broke into song: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU...! Like cats on a fence in the cartoons I was sure someone would throw a shoe at them. But it was great.
You know that phrase we use all too liberally, "I'll never forget this"? Well, I've said that countless times to events I've undoubtedly forgotten over the years, but I can't help but think this time its true. I'll never forget my birthday in India.
Another thing I just remembered. A lot of Christians around here, especially those born in the villages, don't know their real birthdays. So you know what they usually prefer to use and celebrate? Their baptism. How cool is that. Now that's a real birthday!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Evil Spirits, Demon Posession and other Weird and Creepy Topics that make us Westerners all Uncomfortable and Such
Last night I went to cell group at our pastor's house. After a fantastic dinner of buff and momos he shared with us about recent happenings. It turned into one of the most fascinating conversations of my time in India. I'll do my best to share and reflect and who knows, to maybe challenge you to rethink your own box.
Before I start, let me share a few verses that I hope you will keep in mind.
16 They made him jealous with their foreign gods
and angered him with their detestable idols.
My pastor (let's call him Z for ease), has been in the business of deliverance for many years now. Casting out demons, freeing people from evil spirits, healing unexplained ailments - you name it, he's got a story about it. Now before you roll your eyes and scoff, please hear me out as I try to tell Z's story.
Z is a very Westernized Indian pastor from Garhwal, the Himalayan mountain region north of Mussoorie. He was born into a Hindu family and met Jesus in his teens. The encounter impacted him so greatly that by the age of 15 or so he was already preaching the gospel. He continued to learn, taking classes and studying the Bible. One day God gave him the calling to preach the gospel in Garhwal, to his people. More than ten years ago, he started a new church here and has been discipling and training pastors to preach in the villages.
By chance one day, he was asked to cast out a spirit from a woman down the hill. He was hesitant but, being the only pastor these people could find, he accepted. He had no idea what he was in for. He recalled how powerful the experience was, too powerful for him. He wasn't prepared, and he did not succeed in the effort.
Over the next years he continued to pour over the scriptures, arming himself with God's word. When he was called upon again, with God's power, people were delivered.
Z is a very wise man. He speaks with a clarity and understanding of the God's power that I've heard from few others. He never speaks with simplistic arguments but always with a holistic, multi-faceted view of things. He knows God's word. He practices what he preaches. And he preaches without mincing words. He's been a life-long learner, citing all the books he's read and experiences he's had, and a gifted teacher.
The past couple of weeks, Z has been taking part of what he calls "Deliverance Ministry." Villagers from all over are brought together and several pastors pray and confront and cast out evil spirits and demons. He described remarkable stories from this event.
A spirit in one woman called out that he resided in her nose ring - a precious gift from her husband who passed away. Nothing could draw the spirit from this woman until they took off the nose ring. He described it as a very strange event, the woman writhing and struggling until it was finally taken off.
Other demons claimed to live in stomachs, causing great pain. Others in arms and legs. But by the authority of Jesus, none would remain.
Many came to acknowledge the power of Christ as a result. Many accepted the grace given to them by the One True God.
I hung on to every word, all of this so foreign to me. He asked us why the Church in the West generally doesn't acknowledge the spirit world.
Somewhere along history, we stopped recognizing that there is a greater force at work in this world than can be explained by mere science. In the East, this is a part of everyday life. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals are worshiped. These spirits had the power to bring ruin and disease. The power to destroy people. So they have been feared and appeased for countless centuries.
This power has captured billions of people. I cannot deny the glazed look of hundreds of Sadhus and pilgrims in Rishikesh and Haridwar. Men and women stoic, lifeless. People passing by with fixed eyes, as if in a trance. India is a country filled with people captured by lies.
Z argued that perhaps 80% of the country is possessed. How can this not be true, he said, when so many worship and call upon the millions of gods and goddesses in Hinduism. An interesting point I thought. Why would Satan not accept such an invitation?
That then brought up the question, why the West resists notions like these. But here, men worship not spirits but material possessions. Can an argument made that this relentless pursuit has not captured us?
But could it be that what we call mental disorders like schizophrenia could be the work of something greater? Z described personal instances in which he has seen people freed from demons who exhibited such torment.
Throughout the Bible, there was no doubt that spirits had a power and authority in this world. Countless sick and possessed were brought to Jesus to be healed and delivered. Strange that many of us put that aside. That was then, we may say. But the Word says: "1For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12)
The greatest part of the discussion was when Z began to talk about how we must work out our salvation. When Jesus comes into our hearts we are saved and made new. But this of course does not mean we are immune to trouble, free from sin. We must always be working to grow in the knowledge of him. We must always strive towards justification, to show the work God is ALWAYS doing in us. It is not enough to call Jesus the Lord of our hearts when our mind and our eyes and our tongue and the actions of our hands say otherwise.
God wants ALL of our being. He is a jealous God. El Kanna.
He is the God who saved me, a sinner deserving of death and I rarely find the time to sit in his presence and study his word? He showers blessing upon my life yet I am reckless with my time and money when I could be a blessing to others?
What does it say to others about me, about Christians, if God is not Lord of my everything?
Needless to say it was convicting to hear. It gets way to easy to get caught up with Flickr stats and comments. To glide lazily through the day with work and photoshop and surfing without acknowledging my Creator. To think I've been captured by so many things in this world. That I need deliverance too.
Before I start, let me share a few verses that I hope you will keep in mind.
16 They made him jealous with their foreign gods
and angered him with their detestable idols.
17 They sacrificed to demons, which are not God—
gods they had not known,
gods that recently appeared,
gods your fathers did not fear.
18 You deserted the Rock, who fathered you;
you forgot the God who gave you birth.
--Deuteronomy 32:17
2When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an evil spirit came from the tombs to meet him. 3This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him any more, not even with a chain. 4For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. 5Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones.
6When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and fell on his knees in front of him. 7He shouted at the top of his voice, "What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Swear to God that you won't torture me!" 8For Jesus had said to him, "Come out of this man, you evil spirit!"
9Then Jesus asked him, "What is your name?"
"My name is Legion," he replied, "for we are many."
--Mark 5:2-9
8Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 9"All this I will give you," he said, "if you will bow down and worship me."
10Jesus said to him, "Away from me, Satan! For it is written: 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.'d]">[d]"
--Matthew 5:8-10
My pastor (let's call him Z for ease), has been in the business of deliverance for many years now. Casting out demons, freeing people from evil spirits, healing unexplained ailments - you name it, he's got a story about it. Now before you roll your eyes and scoff, please hear me out as I try to tell Z's story.
Z is a very Westernized Indian pastor from Garhwal, the Himalayan mountain region north of Mussoorie. He was born into a Hindu family and met Jesus in his teens. The encounter impacted him so greatly that by the age of 15 or so he was already preaching the gospel. He continued to learn, taking classes and studying the Bible. One day God gave him the calling to preach the gospel in Garhwal, to his people. More than ten years ago, he started a new church here and has been discipling and training pastors to preach in the villages.
By chance one day, he was asked to cast out a spirit from a woman down the hill. He was hesitant but, being the only pastor these people could find, he accepted. He had no idea what he was in for. He recalled how powerful the experience was, too powerful for him. He wasn't prepared, and he did not succeed in the effort.
Over the next years he continued to pour over the scriptures, arming himself with God's word. When he was called upon again, with God's power, people were delivered.
Z is a very wise man. He speaks with a clarity and understanding of the God's power that I've heard from few others. He never speaks with simplistic arguments but always with a holistic, multi-faceted view of things. He knows God's word. He practices what he preaches. And he preaches without mincing words. He's been a life-long learner, citing all the books he's read and experiences he's had, and a gifted teacher.
The past couple of weeks, Z has been taking part of what he calls "Deliverance Ministry." Villagers from all over are brought together and several pastors pray and confront and cast out evil spirits and demons. He described remarkable stories from this event.
A spirit in one woman called out that he resided in her nose ring - a precious gift from her husband who passed away. Nothing could draw the spirit from this woman until they took off the nose ring. He described it as a very strange event, the woman writhing and struggling until it was finally taken off.
Other demons claimed to live in stomachs, causing great pain. Others in arms and legs. But by the authority of Jesus, none would remain.
Many came to acknowledge the power of Christ as a result. Many accepted the grace given to them by the One True God.
I hung on to every word, all of this so foreign to me. He asked us why the Church in the West generally doesn't acknowledge the spirit world.
Somewhere along history, we stopped recognizing that there is a greater force at work in this world than can be explained by mere science. In the East, this is a part of everyday life. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals are worshiped. These spirits had the power to bring ruin and disease. The power to destroy people. So they have been feared and appeased for countless centuries.
This power has captured billions of people. I cannot deny the glazed look of hundreds of Sadhus and pilgrims in Rishikesh and Haridwar. Men and women stoic, lifeless. People passing by with fixed eyes, as if in a trance. India is a country filled with people captured by lies.
Z argued that perhaps 80% of the country is possessed. How can this not be true, he said, when so many worship and call upon the millions of gods and goddesses in Hinduism. An interesting point I thought. Why would Satan not accept such an invitation?
That then brought up the question, why the West resists notions like these. But here, men worship not spirits but material possessions. Can an argument made that this relentless pursuit has not captured us?
But could it be that what we call mental disorders like schizophrenia could be the work of something greater? Z described personal instances in which he has seen people freed from demons who exhibited such torment.
Throughout the Bible, there was no doubt that spirits had a power and authority in this world. Countless sick and possessed were brought to Jesus to be healed and delivered. Strange that many of us put that aside. That was then, we may say. But the Word says: "1For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12)
The greatest part of the discussion was when Z began to talk about how we must work out our salvation. When Jesus comes into our hearts we are saved and made new. But this of course does not mean we are immune to trouble, free from sin. We must always be working to grow in the knowledge of him. We must always strive towards justification, to show the work God is ALWAYS doing in us. It is not enough to call Jesus the Lord of our hearts when our mind and our eyes and our tongue and the actions of our hands say otherwise.
God wants ALL of our being. He is a jealous God. El Kanna.
He is the God who saved me, a sinner deserving of death and I rarely find the time to sit in his presence and study his word? He showers blessing upon my life yet I am reckless with my time and money when I could be a blessing to others?
What does it say to others about me, about Christians, if God is not Lord of my everything?
Needless to say it was convicting to hear. It gets way to easy to get caught up with Flickr stats and comments. To glide lazily through the day with work and photoshop and surfing without acknowledging my Creator. To think I've been captured by so many things in this world. That I need deliverance too.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Boldness
An Indian friend of mine shared an interesting experience with me the other day. He traveled home last week to see his family and attend his cousin's wedding.
My friend is a Christian. He was raised Hindu. God stopped him in his tracks in his many years ago when his cousin (this one getting married) offered to pray for him one night. It blew him away. Pray, sure that's fine, but to me? He thought. There was no idol, there were no mantras. Just a plea to "Jesus" to help him.
That prayer set off a wildfire and the next years were spent learning about this Jesus. He took classes and read the Bible. One day God spoke to him in the night. As clear as a bell. He gave his life to Jesus.
So back to this trip home. His cousin is getting married a second time. Evidently there was a falling out with his first wife and they separated without a legal divorce. She ran off somewhere. This new wife is Hindu. The cousin who first led him to Christ seemed to be a little off the path.
The wedding was very strange for my friend to observe. It was presided over by several Christian pastors, but because the bride's family is Hindu, there were many Hindu rituals allowed to take place. The Word was not spoken.
After the wedding ceremony, the couple, the pastors, and the guests were all in some room - I don't quite know. My friend could not keep quiet and he stood up and shared from the Word. He called out the pastors who approved of his cousin marrying a Hindu woman, who said not a word about his previous marriage still legally unsettled.
His cousin was in tears. The pastors were convicted. All thought he was a pastor himself. No, just a follower of Jesus. It doesn't take a title to read the Bible and to know the Truth.
I was blown away by his conviction and his boldness. How many times have I felt the urge to stand up in my own circumstances and call out those around me? How many times have I kept quiet when lies ran rampant.
This was convicting to me. I hope it's a challenge to you.
My friend is a Christian. He was raised Hindu. God stopped him in his tracks in his many years ago when his cousin (this one getting married) offered to pray for him one night. It blew him away. Pray, sure that's fine, but to me? He thought. There was no idol, there were no mantras. Just a plea to "Jesus" to help him.
That prayer set off a wildfire and the next years were spent learning about this Jesus. He took classes and read the Bible. One day God spoke to him in the night. As clear as a bell. He gave his life to Jesus.
So back to this trip home. His cousin is getting married a second time. Evidently there was a falling out with his first wife and they separated without a legal divorce. She ran off somewhere. This new wife is Hindu. The cousin who first led him to Christ seemed to be a little off the path.
The wedding was very strange for my friend to observe. It was presided over by several Christian pastors, but because the bride's family is Hindu, there were many Hindu rituals allowed to take place. The Word was not spoken.
After the wedding ceremony, the couple, the pastors, and the guests were all in some room - I don't quite know. My friend could not keep quiet and he stood up and shared from the Word. He called out the pastors who approved of his cousin marrying a Hindu woman, who said not a word about his previous marriage still legally unsettled.
His cousin was in tears. The pastors were convicted. All thought he was a pastor himself. No, just a follower of Jesus. It doesn't take a title to read the Bible and to know the Truth.
I was blown away by his conviction and his boldness. How many times have I felt the urge to stand up in my own circumstances and call out those around me? How many times have I kept quiet when lies ran rampant.
This was convicting to me. I hope it's a challenge to you.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Agra
So we went to Agra this last weekend. Saw the Taj, saw Red Fort, yadda yadda yadda. It was big it was beautiful it was stunning. Did you expect something else? Open up your thesaurus and look up the word "spectacular." Done? That's what it was. I painted the picture, I set the scene, you were practically there.
You are dropped off as close as they allow and hop on an official bus to take you the rest of the way. Walk the remaining 2 minutes to the gate. Ignore the shopkeepers, the little boys begging you to buy their postcards, the calls of "yes sir! please sir! one minute sir! come see my shop!" Pay the foreigner tax, 40x the rate of the Indian. Take a deep breath, it was your people who raped and pillaged this land anyways.
Your heart skips a beat as you approach the arched entry. There it is. The most beautiful building in the world. Mmm. All the heat in the world couldn't stop you from enjoying the moment.
A man who claims to be the gardener sees your camera and offers to show you some great places to take "nice photo." You realize too late he'll inevitably expect money. The pictures are good, and you pay him more than he deserves. Yet he still has the gaul to stare back at you in disgust.
You finally leave the grounds, waving goodbye as if expecting the Taj to wave back.
Again ignore the shopkeepers. A young boy with postcards from before pleads even more. His price drops quickly. "My name is Amit! Please. 20 rupees!"
After lunch, Pizza Hut of all places, head to the Agra Red Fort. Even if you wanted sunglasses, a hat, peacock fans, postcards, and other diddly doo-dads, ignore. You'll just get swamped with more. Get to the gate. No, the Taj ticket does not include entry into the Fort like you were told. Fine print is universal. Pay more foreigner tax. Take a deep breath.
Smile and look around. How did they carve this? Wow! Cool! The tour guide offered you a great deal and he tells great stories. Your eyes meet those around you. It looks as if you and your group are the attraction. Cell phones are raised to take your picture, or rather the picture of your friend's blonde sister. Some are even less subtle.
The tour ends and your guide gives you the classic "whatever you want to give" spiel. You pay him more than he asked for at the beginning - it was a good tour. He milks you for more. Walk away. You could never give enough to deserve something less akward or disheartening.
Nahi. Nahi. No, I don't want that. Get in the taxi. Take a deep breath.
Nearly out of Agra the car stops in the traffic. A young girl sees you, your pale skin. She taps on the window. Her face and hands are dirty, her clothes look old and ratty. Five, maybe six years old? You want to look. You want to look away. In the middle of it all, turn with sad eyes to meet hers. Something breaks inside of you. Shrug and smile.
She forgets all about your money.
She smiles back! You make a face and she does too. The car starts to move. You want to jump out of the car and give her a hug. Damnit she deserves at least that! As she slips further away she waves. She waves!
You sit quiet for a long time.
On the outskirts of Delhi, traffic slows. A crowded jeep pulls up next to the car. Too many people in one vehicle, though not nearly as many as you've seen. You catch the eyes of a few kids inside. Smile and wave. The car begins to move again. They pause a moment and then several pairs of hands reach out the window to wave back. Grins all around. You see them 10 minutes later. They're still smiling. So you wave again.
Get back to wherever it is you call home, whether permanent or temporary. Sit and reflect.
You are dropped off as close as they allow and hop on an official bus to take you the rest of the way. Walk the remaining 2 minutes to the gate. Ignore the shopkeepers, the little boys begging you to buy their postcards, the calls of "yes sir! please sir! one minute sir! come see my shop!" Pay the foreigner tax, 40x the rate of the Indian. Take a deep breath, it was your people who raped and pillaged this land anyways.
Your heart skips a beat as you approach the arched entry. There it is. The most beautiful building in the world. Mmm. All the heat in the world couldn't stop you from enjoying the moment.
A man who claims to be the gardener sees your camera and offers to show you some great places to take "nice photo." You realize too late he'll inevitably expect money. The pictures are good, and you pay him more than he deserves. Yet he still has the gaul to stare back at you in disgust.
You finally leave the grounds, waving goodbye as if expecting the Taj to wave back.
Again ignore the shopkeepers. A young boy with postcards from before pleads even more. His price drops quickly. "My name is Amit! Please. 20 rupees!"
After lunch, Pizza Hut of all places, head to the Agra Red Fort. Even if you wanted sunglasses, a hat, peacock fans, postcards, and other diddly doo-dads, ignore. You'll just get swamped with more. Get to the gate. No, the Taj ticket does not include entry into the Fort like you were told. Fine print is universal. Pay more foreigner tax. Take a deep breath.
Smile and look around. How did they carve this? Wow! Cool! The tour guide offered you a great deal and he tells great stories. Your eyes meet those around you. It looks as if you and your group are the attraction. Cell phones are raised to take your picture, or rather the picture of your friend's blonde sister. Some are even less subtle.
The tour ends and your guide gives you the classic "whatever you want to give" spiel. You pay him more than he asked for at the beginning - it was a good tour. He milks you for more. Walk away. You could never give enough to deserve something less akward or disheartening.
Nahi. Nahi. No, I don't want that. Get in the taxi. Take a deep breath.
Nearly out of Agra the car stops in the traffic. A young girl sees you, your pale skin. She taps on the window. Her face and hands are dirty, her clothes look old and ratty. Five, maybe six years old? You want to look. You want to look away. In the middle of it all, turn with sad eyes to meet hers. Something breaks inside of you. Shrug and smile.
She forgets all about your money.
She smiles back! You make a face and she does too. The car starts to move. You want to jump out of the car and give her a hug. Damnit she deserves at least that! As she slips further away she waves. She waves!
You sit quiet for a long time.
On the outskirts of Delhi, traffic slows. A crowded jeep pulls up next to the car. Too many people in one vehicle, though not nearly as many as you've seen. You catch the eyes of a few kids inside. Smile and wave. The car begins to move again. They pause a moment and then several pairs of hands reach out the window to wave back. Grins all around. You see them 10 minutes later. They're still smiling. So you wave again.
Get back to wherever it is you call home, whether permanent or temporary. Sit and reflect.
An Indian Wedding
Taken from my journal for school.
----
About a week before the ceremony was to take place I was volunteered to play the role of official wedding photographer for a wedding at my church. Though I would rather have been asked, I was thrilled with the opportunity. With our project published and only minor in-house projects to do, I was able to take off early from work the last two days of the week to meet with the family of the bride and capture some traditional Garhwali pre-wedding rituals.
Thursday I was asked to meet the family and take pictures of a “Haldi” ceremony in which the bride is covered from head to toe with this yellowish cream in order to make her skin fairer. Interesting how most in the west seem always to try to darken their skin with tanning and creams, but here there is a fascination for paler skin. I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side. I was told to come at 6:00 and like a good, timely Westerner I was there at 5:55. I was the first to arrive. Unfortunately, I was also the only to arrive for the next hour or so. The guests (and the bride) finally showed up and the party started around 7:30, so I enjoyed a couple cups of chai with the parents of the bride. When the Haldi began, it was utter chaos. Dozens of hands reached into the yellow cream and spread it over the bride’s face, arms and legs, and then all over one another! The night ended with dinner and dancing (to the same song over and over again).
Friday I was invited to document the “Henna” ceremony, where the bride’s arms are covered with beautiful patterns with another cream that leaves a temporary tattoo. I learned from my mistake in showing up early, though evidently not well enough. This time the event didn’t start until 8:30! At least the company was fun. While the bride and younger cousins were having the henna done, everyone else danced (again to the same song).
Finally the wedding day arrived. Figuring such an important event would inspire a greater sense of urgency and promptness, I showed up right on time. I was to take pictures of the bride and her family, all dressed up and ready before the wedding ceremony. Ha! Finally, with some 20 minutes before the wedding, I was given five minutes to take some shots. In hindsight, they could have given me that hour anyway, as the groom and his family (crammed like sardines into two vehicles) arrived more than an hour late! The ceremony began and I nervously clicked through the processions and proceedings, not wanting to miss an important moment. Cake was cut, food was served, and dancing ensued (again to the same song). As with the Easter picnic, I danced too of course. Despite the hiccups and the lateness and the repetitive music, the event was an exciting and fun time. It was truly a highlight of this whole experience.
----
About a week before the ceremony was to take place I was volunteered to play the role of official wedding photographer for a wedding at my church. Though I would rather have been asked, I was thrilled with the opportunity. With our project published and only minor in-house projects to do, I was able to take off early from work the last two days of the week to meet with the family of the bride and capture some traditional Garhwali pre-wedding rituals.
Thursday I was asked to meet the family and take pictures of a “Haldi” ceremony in which the bride is covered from head to toe with this yellowish cream in order to make her skin fairer. Interesting how most in the west seem always to try to darken their skin with tanning and creams, but here there is a fascination for paler skin. I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side. I was told to come at 6:00 and like a good, timely Westerner I was there at 5:55. I was the first to arrive. Unfortunately, I was also the only to arrive for the next hour or so. The guests (and the bride) finally showed up and the party started around 7:30, so I enjoyed a couple cups of chai with the parents of the bride. When the Haldi began, it was utter chaos. Dozens of hands reached into the yellow cream and spread it over the bride’s face, arms and legs, and then all over one another! The night ended with dinner and dancing (to the same song over and over again).
Friday I was invited to document the “Henna” ceremony, where the bride’s arms are covered with beautiful patterns with another cream that leaves a temporary tattoo. I learned from my mistake in showing up early, though evidently not well enough. This time the event didn’t start until 8:30! At least the company was fun. While the bride and younger cousins were having the henna done, everyone else danced (again to the same song).
Finally the wedding day arrived. Figuring such an important event would inspire a greater sense of urgency and promptness, I showed up right on time. I was to take pictures of the bride and her family, all dressed up and ready before the wedding ceremony. Ha! Finally, with some 20 minutes before the wedding, I was given five minutes to take some shots. In hindsight, they could have given me that hour anyway, as the groom and his family (crammed like sardines into two vehicles) arrived more than an hour late! The ceremony began and I nervously clicked through the processions and proceedings, not wanting to miss an important moment. Cake was cut, food was served, and dancing ensued (again to the same song). As with the Easter picnic, I danced too of course. Despite the hiccups and the lateness and the repetitive music, the event was an exciting and fun time. It was truly a highlight of this whole experience.
The past month in brief
I haven't written here in a month, shame on me. And so much has happened! So here is a quick list to get you up to speed and to help me decide on what to write:
- Played the role of 'Official Wedding Photographer' at a Christian Indian wedding ceremony one weekend.
- Spent lots of money (relatively) on photo prints to share with friends here.
- Said goodbye to a wonderful staff family.
- Went to Delhi to pick up a friend's family, visiting him in Mussoorie.
- It's been raining most days, though locals insist monsoon doesn't start until, precisely, June 15th.
- Walked again to Happy Valley and got to know some Kansan's who are here.
- Assigned a new project with a local ministry.
- Went to Delhi (again) and to Agra, touring and eating very well with my friend's family before we sent them home. Saw the Taj Mahal!
- Watched 5/6 of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy (extended) over the weekend
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Rafting in Rishikesh
Today I went with Matt, Matt and Ko to Rishikesh to raft the Ganga. I didn't take pictures but wow was it fun! For some 17 km we rafted, rode rapids and jumped in and floated down the river. We even got to do some cliff jumping, though it was only maybe 20-25ft or so. It's higher than it looks!
Today I saw a few kids all dressed up and painted to look like a god. A man in similar fashion tried to put a tilak on my forehead. And of course, it was impossible to walk through the bazaar without being assaulted by "hello! yes please! you see my shop! large variety! high quality! yes sir, please sir!" Or the hundreds of beggars - sadhus (men of renunciation), crippled, elderly, women, and children.
It was interesting thinking of how many come to take a holy dip in this river. Others go to dump their garbage. And others to raft. And some all three I'm sure. What a strange object of worship.
Matt had an interesting thought as we ate at The Third Eye "restaurent" overlooking the Ganges. "I wonder how many people come to this place seeking some sort of spiritual high and leave feeling no different than when they came." Only finding a nice place to rest, but no enlightenment.
We walked past a huge temple across the Lakshman Jhula. Dozens of ornately decorated and sculpted gods. Most with several faces, many hands and feet. Some of love. Some of wrath. Any can be The god of your life. So many gods, so many paths.
I'll never complain about Nebraska roads again.
Today I saw a few kids all dressed up and painted to look like a god. A man in similar fashion tried to put a tilak on my forehead. And of course, it was impossible to walk through the bazaar without being assaulted by "hello! yes please! you see my shop! large variety! high quality! yes sir, please sir!" Or the hundreds of beggars - sadhus (men of renunciation), crippled, elderly, women, and children.
It was interesting thinking of how many come to take a holy dip in this river. Others go to dump their garbage. And others to raft. And some all three I'm sure. What a strange object of worship.
Matt had an interesting thought as we ate at The Third Eye "restaurent" overlooking the Ganges. "I wonder how many people come to this place seeking some sort of spiritual high and leave feeling no different than when they came." Only finding a nice place to rest, but no enlightenment.
We walked past a huge temple across the Lakshman Jhula. Dozens of ornately decorated and sculpted gods. Most with several faces, many hands and feet. Some of love. Some of wrath. Any can be The god of your life. So many gods, so many paths.
I'll never complain about Nebraska roads again.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dodital
Last week, the four of us interns, and our good friend and eMi staff Ryan headed to Uttarkashi some 6 hours away to trek to Dodital lake. The trip was well-anticipated and we each loaded up with snack food and trekking packs (about 35-40lb each) and set off on the two day journey. As usual, words do it no justice, and images do only a bit more.
I never would have imagined how difficult it would be to hike up steep, rocky, endless paths with so little weight on my back. 40lbs. What is that? Sure, it wasn't supposed to be a walk in the park, but quickly I decided I was in over my head! But I pressed on, usually towards the end of the pack. As soon as we broke rest I prayed for another! I emptied my water bottle far too quickly and the sun beat down on us mercilessly that first afternoon.
But we finally made it to our first stop, Agora village. Only accessible on foot, this small hillside community was a welcoming site. We were led by a young man who babbled on without end about "my father this, my father that." All in broken English of course. He seemed to have a heart of gold, but he simply wouldn't stop talking! We settled at an empty government campsite and took off our shoes.
Not soon after we had set up our tents we were invited by two men to come and watch a celebration taking place in the village. Not one to miss any opportunity, I grabbed my camera and took off with two of the other guys. And what a sight to see!
In the center of an open, flat area, there sat some sort of idol. It was like a silver castle-like thing, with a beautiful red and yellow cloth draped beneath it. The whole thing was attached to two long wooden poles. Men danced around the thing, which I learned had something to do with a devi - a mother goddess. Holding hands behind each others' backs the formed a chain that grew longer as the ceremony went on. The lead man flamboyantly waved a rod with thick black hair attached to it. Women formed a similar, separate chain, the lead dancing with an ornate red and gold cloth. Around and around the idol they danced to exciting drum beats.
As the music changed, so would the dance. Crossing their legs, chanting and shouting in unison, leaning back and forth - it was a really cool line dance. Eventually about three dozen had joined in the dancing as the rest of the village - perhaps 150 people - watched.
Our friend from earlier, Abram, then got himself into a LOT of trouble. He began dancing independently in the center around the idol. He got on all fours and began hopping like a frog. He accidentally bumped the idol, nearly knocking it off its stand! The scene quickly turned into a huge brawl with several punches thrown as some tried to chastise the boy and his father while others tried to defend and calm the situation. It took about 20 minutes for the festival to resume.
When it picked back up, there was an even more interesting dance. Two men would dance with the idol, the poles resting on their shoulder. They would rock and shake it back and forth and I was convinced the thing would fall off though it never did. Men took turns until finally they carried it up to what I assume was a temple. They took off the silver casing (the castle-like thing) to reveal just a strange pyramid shape covered in more fabric. I was expecting an actual figurine idol, not just a fabric box!
Then two older men exclusively carried the thing around, bobbing with the music. I was sure they were going to break their necks they bobbed it so violently. A line formed and the men bobbed the idol onto the heads of praying devotees. They even brought out Abram to make penance! This went on for some time. My attention then turned to all the kids who were watching me take photos and for another thirty minutes it was all "one photo! one photo!"
The next morning we set off for the 16 km hike to the lake. We were up and ready to go early and all was going so smoothly until... "there is no way this is the right trail!" Somewhere we missed a turn off and were climbing up a narrow steep trail up the wrong mountain. So we backtracked... for an hour! But we found the right path and began the descent to cross the Asi Ganga stream at Bebra Gate and then ascended up the right mountain in the right direction.
16 km was what we were supposed to walk, but with the wrong turn, I figured we were looking at a 20+km day! And the climb was steep and my pack was heavy. We walked in silence most of the way and I sang hymns in my head - usually one's calling upon God's strength! And strength he provided! Every break we took re-energized me and when I felt there was no way I could go on he lifted my spirits. I can't explain it - I felt weak and inadequate for such a task. But God seemed to want me to get to Dodital and with his strength I did!
Along the way we were blessed with great views and cool breezes. The excitement built especially when we saw those mountain peaks we were going to get close to! And we made it to Dodital! The place was empty except for a couple of forest service people, a daba (cook), and a few people who ran the temple by the lake. Sadly, we weren't allowed to fish because they recently decided the lake to be sacred!
The next morning we set off for the ridge - this time with lighter packs and a special treat for the top. It took nearly two hours, following the stream up the saddle. The ridge seemed so elusive for so long! We finally made it and wow! A great view, although it was a bit gloomy. Regardless we celebrated with non other than a b**f stick! Oh boy, was it glorious!
After a nap on the top of the ridge we decided to continue along a path around another hill and up to the other side of the ridge. This was even more wearing but the view was even more spectacular! It was like dreaming of a spectacular view and anticipating it and finally getting there and going "WOW THIS IS AMAZING!" Needless to say I took hundreds of photos. Ryan's watch told us we were nearly 13,000 ft up. A friend and I wandered even further along the ridge and eyed another hill to climb. But the weather started to turn sour and we turned back. It snowed a bit while we went down. But in the valley it was so beautiful and we dipped our feet in the cold stream and napped again. Or, they napped and I took waterfall pictures!
We got back to camp and played lots and lots of cards - Presidents. We played a lot of that game throughout the trip.
The next morning Ko and I decided we wanted to go back up the ridge to try and catch it on a clearer day. We peeked our heads out of the tent at 5:30 and an hour later were off! It was a beautiful day - truly a blessing from God. We got up to the top and I can't explain how absolutely magnificent it was. The snow caps were even more stunning with the snow from the previous day and there was not a cloud in the sky. The air was clear and blue and blue gets. If you haven't yet you must check out my pictures!
We continued along that path we eyed the day before and climbed along a dangerous path. A slip to the left meant a slide down the snow for who knows how long. To the right, a short roll and then a cliff edge. Worth it. An hour or so later we had an even more stunning view of both the Yamnotri and Gangotri ranges. We rested and I took photos.
On the way back, as we neared Dodital, we met up with the other guys who were out looking for fish in the stream. I went crick'n with Matt for a ways down the stream. We played hours more Presidents and ate another hot meal at the daba.
The walk back the next day was so much better. The air was cool and most of the path down hill for a change. We stayed at Bebra Gate, played Presidents, and left the next morning. By 10:30 we were back at Sangamchatti, a small village just outside of Uttarkashi where we were picked up.
The ride back was terrible. It was windy. We got a flat tire. We were crammed tightly together. We waited an hour for road construction. We stopped to repair the tire. But we finally made it back to Mussoorie. No hill here even compares!
The trek was a fantastic experience and while I was blessed with spectacular scenery, I really felt that God really showed up. He gave me strength and reminded me that I should be more reliant on him. I can't do anything on my own, but by his strength. And he reminded me of his goodness. I prayed so hard for a clear day, and by all reasoning there was no reason for there to be one! The night was cloudy and this season rarely sees a clear sky. But like a good father with the power to do anything, he opened up the sky and gave Ko and I the most beautiful and perfect day to view those mountains. Surely no one has seen them so gloriously! It was great to fellowship and hang out with the guys I've been working with and to praise him for all the cool things we saw and felt him working in us.
God is big. Big enough to create this beautiful world and everything in it. God is strong. Strong enough to get us to the tops of the mountains even when we lack the strength and resolve to do it ourselves. And God is good. Good enough to bless us even when we don't deserve it. Like a perfect, loving father, is God.
I never would have imagined how difficult it would be to hike up steep, rocky, endless paths with so little weight on my back. 40lbs. What is that? Sure, it wasn't supposed to be a walk in the park, but quickly I decided I was in over my head! But I pressed on, usually towards the end of the pack. As soon as we broke rest I prayed for another! I emptied my water bottle far too quickly and the sun beat down on us mercilessly that first afternoon.
But we finally made it to our first stop, Agora village. Only accessible on foot, this small hillside community was a welcoming site. We were led by a young man who babbled on without end about "my father this, my father that." All in broken English of course. He seemed to have a heart of gold, but he simply wouldn't stop talking! We settled at an empty government campsite and took off our shoes.
Not soon after we had set up our tents we were invited by two men to come and watch a celebration taking place in the village. Not one to miss any opportunity, I grabbed my camera and took off with two of the other guys. And what a sight to see!
In the center of an open, flat area, there sat some sort of idol. It was like a silver castle-like thing, with a beautiful red and yellow cloth draped beneath it. The whole thing was attached to two long wooden poles. Men danced around the thing, which I learned had something to do with a devi - a mother goddess. Holding hands behind each others' backs the formed a chain that grew longer as the ceremony went on. The lead man flamboyantly waved a rod with thick black hair attached to it. Women formed a similar, separate chain, the lead dancing with an ornate red and gold cloth. Around and around the idol they danced to exciting drum beats.
As the music changed, so would the dance. Crossing their legs, chanting and shouting in unison, leaning back and forth - it was a really cool line dance. Eventually about three dozen had joined in the dancing as the rest of the village - perhaps 150 people - watched.
Our friend from earlier, Abram, then got himself into a LOT of trouble. He began dancing independently in the center around the idol. He got on all fours and began hopping like a frog. He accidentally bumped the idol, nearly knocking it off its stand! The scene quickly turned into a huge brawl with several punches thrown as some tried to chastise the boy and his father while others tried to defend and calm the situation. It took about 20 minutes for the festival to resume.
When it picked back up, there was an even more interesting dance. Two men would dance with the idol, the poles resting on their shoulder. They would rock and shake it back and forth and I was convinced the thing would fall off though it never did. Men took turns until finally they carried it up to what I assume was a temple. They took off the silver casing (the castle-like thing) to reveal just a strange pyramid shape covered in more fabric. I was expecting an actual figurine idol, not just a fabric box!
Then two older men exclusively carried the thing around, bobbing with the music. I was sure they were going to break their necks they bobbed it so violently. A line formed and the men bobbed the idol onto the heads of praying devotees. They even brought out Abram to make penance! This went on for some time. My attention then turned to all the kids who were watching me take photos and for another thirty minutes it was all "one photo! one photo!"
The next morning we set off for the 16 km hike to the lake. We were up and ready to go early and all was going so smoothly until... "there is no way this is the right trail!" Somewhere we missed a turn off and were climbing up a narrow steep trail up the wrong mountain. So we backtracked... for an hour! But we found the right path and began the descent to cross the Asi Ganga stream at Bebra Gate and then ascended up the right mountain in the right direction.
16 km was what we were supposed to walk, but with the wrong turn, I figured we were looking at a 20+km day! And the climb was steep and my pack was heavy. We walked in silence most of the way and I sang hymns in my head - usually one's calling upon God's strength! And strength he provided! Every break we took re-energized me and when I felt there was no way I could go on he lifted my spirits. I can't explain it - I felt weak and inadequate for such a task. But God seemed to want me to get to Dodital and with his strength I did!
Along the way we were blessed with great views and cool breezes. The excitement built especially when we saw those mountain peaks we were going to get close to! And we made it to Dodital! The place was empty except for a couple of forest service people, a daba (cook), and a few people who ran the temple by the lake. Sadly, we weren't allowed to fish because they recently decided the lake to be sacred!
The next morning we set off for the ridge - this time with lighter packs and a special treat for the top. It took nearly two hours, following the stream up the saddle. The ridge seemed so elusive for so long! We finally made it and wow! A great view, although it was a bit gloomy. Regardless we celebrated with non other than a b**f stick! Oh boy, was it glorious!
After a nap on the top of the ridge we decided to continue along a path around another hill and up to the other side of the ridge. This was even more wearing but the view was even more spectacular! It was like dreaming of a spectacular view and anticipating it and finally getting there and going "WOW THIS IS AMAZING!" Needless to say I took hundreds of photos. Ryan's watch told us we were nearly 13,000 ft up. A friend and I wandered even further along the ridge and eyed another hill to climb. But the weather started to turn sour and we turned back. It snowed a bit while we went down. But in the valley it was so beautiful and we dipped our feet in the cold stream and napped again. Or, they napped and I took waterfall pictures!
We got back to camp and played lots and lots of cards - Presidents. We played a lot of that game throughout the trip.
The next morning Ko and I decided we wanted to go back up the ridge to try and catch it on a clearer day. We peeked our heads out of the tent at 5:30 and an hour later were off! It was a beautiful day - truly a blessing from God. We got up to the top and I can't explain how absolutely magnificent it was. The snow caps were even more stunning with the snow from the previous day and there was not a cloud in the sky. The air was clear and blue and blue gets. If you haven't yet you must check out my pictures!
We continued along that path we eyed the day before and climbed along a dangerous path. A slip to the left meant a slide down the snow for who knows how long. To the right, a short roll and then a cliff edge. Worth it. An hour or so later we had an even more stunning view of both the Yamnotri and Gangotri ranges. We rested and I took photos.
On the way back, as we neared Dodital, we met up with the other guys who were out looking for fish in the stream. I went crick'n with Matt for a ways down the stream. We played hours more Presidents and ate another hot meal at the daba.
The walk back the next day was so much better. The air was cool and most of the path down hill for a change. We stayed at Bebra Gate, played Presidents, and left the next morning. By 10:30 we were back at Sangamchatti, a small village just outside of Uttarkashi where we were picked up.
The ride back was terrible. It was windy. We got a flat tire. We were crammed tightly together. We waited an hour for road construction. We stopped to repair the tire. But we finally made it back to Mussoorie. No hill here even compares!
The trek was a fantastic experience and while I was blessed with spectacular scenery, I really felt that God really showed up. He gave me strength and reminded me that I should be more reliant on him. I can't do anything on my own, but by his strength. And he reminded me of his goodness. I prayed so hard for a clear day, and by all reasoning there was no reason for there to be one! The night was cloudy and this season rarely sees a clear sky. But like a good father with the power to do anything, he opened up the sky and gave Ko and I the most beautiful and perfect day to view those mountains. Surely no one has seen them so gloriously! It was great to fellowship and hang out with the guys I've been working with and to praise him for all the cool things we saw and felt him working in us.
God is big. Big enough to create this beautiful world and everything in it. God is strong. Strong enough to get us to the tops of the mountains even when we lack the strength and resolve to do it ourselves. And God is good. Good enough to bless us even when we don't deserve it. Like a perfect, loving father, is God.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Trek of the Century
So I have just returned from our trek to Dodital Lake in Uttarakhand. It was a fantastic journey and we were blessed with phenomenal views of the himalayan peaks that feed both the Ganges and Yamuna rivers, two of the most important rivers in India. I have uploaded a few images of the journey for you to enjoy with the promise of much more to come. Stories to follow as well of course.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Mountains in the Mist
I posted some new photos today. These weren't taken by me, but were taken by one of the EMI staff on a recent adventure to Himachal Pradesh. I offered him my camera and he graciously allowed me to edit his images and post them. They were so good that I wanted to share them with you.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Healing Prayer
I uploaded pictures from our Easter picnic. It was a lot of fun and I of course took many photos. Hope you had a great Easter celebrating the the resurrection of our Savior! Click on the photo to see my photos.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Village Meeting
A photo from my first project trip that I just loved and realized I never uploaded. Here it is.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday
Today is the day that those who believe remember the crucifixion of an innocent man, if one could call him simply that, Jesus of Nazareth. He was accused by the religious men of his time that he claimed to be King, that he claimed to be the Son of God. He was arrested under the cover of darkness and rushed from court to court in the middle of the night. Not one of the judges he stood before could find any fault in him. Yet his accusers would not rest until this man was dead and they riled up the crowds who just days before shouted for joy at his arrival into the city of Jerusalem. The Roman authority cowardly heeded to the demands of the mob, though he too found no fault in him, and sent him away to be whipped, to be beaten beyond recognition, and to be executed on the cross - a death fitting for thieves and murderers.
Without a word of objection, like a lamb to the slaughter, this man Jesus carried his cross on the long road to the edge of the city, to a hill where he was to be hung. The wood dug deep into his wounds, tearing his already broken flesh. He was given a crown of thorns that pressed hard into his scalp. They adorned him with a robe of purple and mocked him as he silently carried his means of execution to the place of his death.
They lay him down, his hands and feet outstretched on the cross and drove large nails through his wrists and his feet. They raised the cross upright and their he hung for all to see. One of the highest hills in the city, he could be seen for miles. Above his head they wrote "The King of the Jews" much to the dismay of his accusers.
Next to him they crucified two men whose crimes made them worthy of death. One of them, even in his pathetic position mocked him along with the crowds. The other asked Jesus to remember him in his Kingdom.
Hours passed. With every long minute breathing became more and more difficult. The wood against his back dug into his bloodied back as he slipped lower and lower. In a raspy voice he called out that he was thirsty. They raised a sponge soaked in wine to his lips. After he took his drink he took his final breath, and with the strength he had left called out that it was finished. He bowed his head and died.
The instant life left his body the earth shook. The sky darkened and the thick curtain in the temple was torn in two. In horror and amazement, even one of the soldiers cried out "Surely this man was the Son of God!"
The man, Jesus, was guilty of the accusation. He did claim to be the Son of God. Yet they failed to realize that unlike the dozens of false prophets and liars who made this claim, Jesus proved it. He lived a blameless life - before both men and God. He performed many miracles, affirmation of the power given to him by God. He raised the dead and fed thousands from scraps of food. Thousands bore witness to his acts. Many thousands more heard his teaching.
As Jesus hung on the cross that day, he saw me in the crowd. He saw me not weeping for his pain, but mocking him in his final hours. He looked into my eyes, saw into the depths of my heart and found that I was not good. I was not worthy of his love. Even as a I cheered for his crucifixion he loved me. Even as I spit in his face as he bore his cross to that hill he loved me. Even as I shouted for him to use his power to save himself from death he loved me.
Jesus saw you too. Though you were many years from this moment in time he knew everything you were to become. He saw the evil in your heart. He saw how you mistreated others. He saw your selfish attitude. He saw your darkest moments of sin. And he loved you too.
As he hung there on the cross he took on every one of our sins - just one of which made us worthy of death apart from God. He paid the price by his perfect life, a sacrifice for mankind. By his blood men are made right before God.
The Son of God died in your place and mine. Where we deserve to hang on the cross just like the thieves beside him, he paid the price. I didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve it. But because of his great love for us, while we were still sinners, Jesus, the Christ, died for us.
Jesus was not a man motivated by fame for what glory is there in death on a cross! Nor was he a lunatic for he ever has spoke with such wisdom and authority! He was the Son of God sent to save sinners. He didn't set out to start a religion of rules and bureaucracy. He came to this world to testify to the Truth that we are not right before God and that by his grace - only by his grace - we are made pure.
He asked his followers to be lights in this world. To right wrongs. To heal brokenness. To defend the cause of the widow and the orphan. To love the unlovable. All this was to be done with humility and love, not arrogance and force. His final wish was for his message of forgiveness to be shared with the whole of the world.
As you reflect on these words and the meaning of this day, I invite you to read the claims of Jesus and to decide for yourself who this man really was. For myself, I have decided that he truly was the Son of God. Just as he promised, he has come into my heart and changed my life. He will do the same for you.
The message of Good Friday is good news.
Without a word of objection, like a lamb to the slaughter, this man Jesus carried his cross on the long road to the edge of the city, to a hill where he was to be hung. The wood dug deep into his wounds, tearing his already broken flesh. He was given a crown of thorns that pressed hard into his scalp. They adorned him with a robe of purple and mocked him as he silently carried his means of execution to the place of his death.
They lay him down, his hands and feet outstretched on the cross and drove large nails through his wrists and his feet. They raised the cross upright and their he hung for all to see. One of the highest hills in the city, he could be seen for miles. Above his head they wrote "The King of the Jews" much to the dismay of his accusers.
Next to him they crucified two men whose crimes made them worthy of death. One of them, even in his pathetic position mocked him along with the crowds. The other asked Jesus to remember him in his Kingdom.
Hours passed. With every long minute breathing became more and more difficult. The wood against his back dug into his bloodied back as he slipped lower and lower. In a raspy voice he called out that he was thirsty. They raised a sponge soaked in wine to his lips. After he took his drink he took his final breath, and with the strength he had left called out that it was finished. He bowed his head and died.
The instant life left his body the earth shook. The sky darkened and the thick curtain in the temple was torn in two. In horror and amazement, even one of the soldiers cried out "Surely this man was the Son of God!"
The man, Jesus, was guilty of the accusation. He did claim to be the Son of God. Yet they failed to realize that unlike the dozens of false prophets and liars who made this claim, Jesus proved it. He lived a blameless life - before both men and God. He performed many miracles, affirmation of the power given to him by God. He raised the dead and fed thousands from scraps of food. Thousands bore witness to his acts. Many thousands more heard his teaching.
As Jesus hung on the cross that day, he saw me in the crowd. He saw me not weeping for his pain, but mocking him in his final hours. He looked into my eyes, saw into the depths of my heart and found that I was not good. I was not worthy of his love. Even as a I cheered for his crucifixion he loved me. Even as I spit in his face as he bore his cross to that hill he loved me. Even as I shouted for him to use his power to save himself from death he loved me.
Jesus saw you too. Though you were many years from this moment in time he knew everything you were to become. He saw the evil in your heart. He saw how you mistreated others. He saw your selfish attitude. He saw your darkest moments of sin. And he loved you too.
As he hung there on the cross he took on every one of our sins - just one of which made us worthy of death apart from God. He paid the price by his perfect life, a sacrifice for mankind. By his blood men are made right before God.
The Son of God died in your place and mine. Where we deserve to hang on the cross just like the thieves beside him, he paid the price. I didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve it. But because of his great love for us, while we were still sinners, Jesus, the Christ, died for us.
Jesus was not a man motivated by fame for what glory is there in death on a cross! Nor was he a lunatic for he ever has spoke with such wisdom and authority! He was the Son of God sent to save sinners. He didn't set out to start a religion of rules and bureaucracy. He came to this world to testify to the Truth that we are not right before God and that by his grace - only by his grace - we are made pure.
He asked his followers to be lights in this world. To right wrongs. To heal brokenness. To defend the cause of the widow and the orphan. To love the unlovable. All this was to be done with humility and love, not arrogance and force. His final wish was for his message of forgiveness to be shared with the whole of the world.
As you reflect on these words and the meaning of this day, I invite you to read the claims of Jesus and to decide for yourself who this man really was. For myself, I have decided that he truly was the Son of God. Just as he promised, he has come into my heart and changed my life. He will do the same for you.
The message of Good Friday is good news.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Empty Swing
Woke up early to take pictures of the sunrise on the Himalayas. It was misty but quite beautiful. Take a peek at what I saw!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Rishikesh and Haridwar
The world got bigger this weekend. Us interns traveled to Rishikesh Friday morning and spent two days observing cities considered Hindu strongholds. In Rishikesh and Haridwar there are few Christians. Here, millions travel for miles across the subcontinent to take a "holy dip" in the Ganges to wash away their sins. Thousands of gurus and sadhus and thousands more crippled and poor live on the street. Temples and shrines are found everywhere. Holy cows roam free. Who knows how few have ever heard the name or power of Jesus.
Rishikesh is a place nestled in a mountain valley, the mighty Ganga flowing through. The blue-green waters rush down rapids and shallows where many come to bathe. The streets are filled with beggars. Some are holy men - gurus. Some are sadhus - men who have chosen the path of renunciation for salvation. Some are poor - children, widows. Some are crippled - without feet. Blind. Useless limbs. Here Shiva, Ram, and Vishnu are worshipped among many others. It is a place where many come to learn and practice Yoga. Others to find healing with the Ayurvedic arts. Some just come for the hash.
We walked a big loop seeing some of the more important areas of the town. We saw many begging along the roads. Too many. We had shakes at Chotiwalla. A man dressed and painted blue like some god sat at the entrance, ringing a bell when one enters. We talked with several Indians to find out the significance of the place. Where we weren't asked for money we were hounded by merchants. We saw three blind men and women on some steps - their eyes glazed a haunting white. We watched from the bridge men dunking themselves in the waters of the river.
Ko and I could not resist a swim. It was hot and what better to do than to cool off in the holy Ganga. We stripped to our skivvies and jumped in. Brr. I did not feel any more holy, any more cleansed. I wonder how many come for a saving dip only to feel what I felt. We sat and prayed on a boulder as we dried off. For the people who come to be saved. I heard recently that one day the Ganga will be the world's largest baptismal font. May it be so, Lord.
We wandered off in search of a place to sleep. Off the beaten path, right next to the Ganges we stayed at Aarti Cottage. Not a foreigner in sight! Nearby were two concrete piers. Men and women came to the end of the pier to worship shrines, the waters, and to dip. We walked down to see first hand. I sat quietly as women poured water on a Shiva Lingum, undoubtedly asking for fertility - for the land, for themselves. The dock reeked of incense. Another shrine was set up for Ganesh, the elephant god. Some dunked their entire bodies into the river.
We met some young men who spoke no English but between the four of us we were able to communicate enough in Hindi to share about ourselves and what we were doing in Rishikesh. They took us to a sketchy restaurant in a completely un-touristy part of town. For Rs 85 ($1.70) total the four of us had the best dal chaval I think we've had. We left and found a parade was starting.
It happened to be the birthday of Ram. Some told us the festival also was some sort of mothers day. People were dancing as the crowds gathered around a small temple. I was quite frustrated when our new friends insisted to take us back to our hotel. I wanted to stay and watch! As soon as we got back and they had left, Ko and I took off back to the parade. Na ner na ner naaa nerrr.
What a sight! A small band and a strange music vehicle played to the dancing crowd as the parade went down the narrow streets. Women were dancing in the center. Men on the top of a vehicle that led the way. Children swarmed us as our cameras clicked and flashed. People dancing and singing in worship. Oh how overjoyed the One True God would be to be worshiped with such dancing! Near the end of the parade a man fell off the top of the lead car. I watched in horror as his limp body was rushed to help. The music slowed, the dancing stopped, and Ko and I slipped off to the guest house to reflect and pray with the others.
The next morning we woke at 5:30 to see the sunrise and the events by the river. Hundreds came to the river to worship. The scenery was quite beautiful, the river, the mountains, the rising sun. I watched more worship at the Shiva Lingum shrine on the pier. A woman spinning around with a candle in her hand. Others prostrate. Others dunking. We found a place to pray. One day God will turn this land into a land in worship of Him. The devil won't win.
After breakfast we took a Vikrum to Haridwar.
Haridwar is a beautiful place. It is considered one of the seven holiest places in Hinduism. Here the river is bounded by steps to descend into it. The Ganges has been channeled for calmer waters to dip. Millions of pilgrims come every year to dip. During the Kumbh Mela, some 100 million Hindus are expected to come searching for salvation in the waters during three months in which heaven and earth are no closer than they are in Haridwar. Somehow, this town of 200,000 hosts 30 million at the peak of the Mela.
Here we found thousands bathing in the Ganga. Huge stone and concrete bridges span the river and the canals. Temples and shrine are everywhere. More beggars. Young girls try to put the Tilak on your head and expect a few rupees if they are successful. Merchants are quick to find a foreigner. We wandered around just looking. It was very crowded. At a fork in the river a giant statue of Shiva stands, snakes climbing about his body. How fitting. Satan has not been so subtle it seems in Hinduism.
We walked through the narrow, crowded marketplaces. We ate at another veg restaurant, Chotiwalla - delicious. We were hounded by beggars when we started to hand out oranges. Edwin had to physically pull me out of the crowd. We finally made our way to the bus stand and travelled to Dehradun and to Mussoorie.
Rishikesh and Haridwar were dark places. I could very much sense the hopelessness. You could see it in people's eyes. I stood in sadness and disgust at ornate temples and shrines. You could smell it in the air. I'm still trying to sort through what I saw and what God is teaching me. I know that it will be an experience I will remember the rest of my life.
Rishikesh is a place nestled in a mountain valley, the mighty Ganga flowing through. The blue-green waters rush down rapids and shallows where many come to bathe. The streets are filled with beggars. Some are holy men - gurus. Some are sadhus - men who have chosen the path of renunciation for salvation. Some are poor - children, widows. Some are crippled - without feet. Blind. Useless limbs. Here Shiva, Ram, and Vishnu are worshipped among many others. It is a place where many come to learn and practice Yoga. Others to find healing with the Ayurvedic arts. Some just come for the hash.
We walked a big loop seeing some of the more important areas of the town. We saw many begging along the roads. Too many. We had shakes at Chotiwalla. A man dressed and painted blue like some god sat at the entrance, ringing a bell when one enters. We talked with several Indians to find out the significance of the place. Where we weren't asked for money we were hounded by merchants. We saw three blind men and women on some steps - their eyes glazed a haunting white. We watched from the bridge men dunking themselves in the waters of the river.
Ko and I could not resist a swim. It was hot and what better to do than to cool off in the holy Ganga. We stripped to our skivvies and jumped in. Brr. I did not feel any more holy, any more cleansed. I wonder how many come for a saving dip only to feel what I felt. We sat and prayed on a boulder as we dried off. For the people who come to be saved. I heard recently that one day the Ganga will be the world's largest baptismal font. May it be so, Lord.
We wandered off in search of a place to sleep. Off the beaten path, right next to the Ganges we stayed at Aarti Cottage. Not a foreigner in sight! Nearby were two concrete piers. Men and women came to the end of the pier to worship shrines, the waters, and to dip. We walked down to see first hand. I sat quietly as women poured water on a Shiva Lingum, undoubtedly asking for fertility - for the land, for themselves. The dock reeked of incense. Another shrine was set up for Ganesh, the elephant god. Some dunked their entire bodies into the river.
We met some young men who spoke no English but between the four of us we were able to communicate enough in Hindi to share about ourselves and what we were doing in Rishikesh. They took us to a sketchy restaurant in a completely un-touristy part of town. For Rs 85 ($1.70) total the four of us had the best dal chaval I think we've had. We left and found a parade was starting.
It happened to be the birthday of Ram. Some told us the festival also was some sort of mothers day. People were dancing as the crowds gathered around a small temple. I was quite frustrated when our new friends insisted to take us back to our hotel. I wanted to stay and watch! As soon as we got back and they had left, Ko and I took off back to the parade. Na ner na ner naaa nerrr.
What a sight! A small band and a strange music vehicle played to the dancing crowd as the parade went down the narrow streets. Women were dancing in the center. Men on the top of a vehicle that led the way. Children swarmed us as our cameras clicked and flashed. People dancing and singing in worship. Oh how overjoyed the One True God would be to be worshiped with such dancing! Near the end of the parade a man fell off the top of the lead car. I watched in horror as his limp body was rushed to help. The music slowed, the dancing stopped, and Ko and I slipped off to the guest house to reflect and pray with the others.
The next morning we woke at 5:30 to see the sunrise and the events by the river. Hundreds came to the river to worship. The scenery was quite beautiful, the river, the mountains, the rising sun. I watched more worship at the Shiva Lingum shrine on the pier. A woman spinning around with a candle in her hand. Others prostrate. Others dunking. We found a place to pray. One day God will turn this land into a land in worship of Him. The devil won't win.
After breakfast we took a Vikrum to Haridwar.
Haridwar is a beautiful place. It is considered one of the seven holiest places in Hinduism. Here the river is bounded by steps to descend into it. The Ganges has been channeled for calmer waters to dip. Millions of pilgrims come every year to dip. During the Kumbh Mela, some 100 million Hindus are expected to come searching for salvation in the waters during three months in which heaven and earth are no closer than they are in Haridwar. Somehow, this town of 200,000 hosts 30 million at the peak of the Mela.
Here we found thousands bathing in the Ganga. Huge stone and concrete bridges span the river and the canals. Temples and shrine are everywhere. More beggars. Young girls try to put the Tilak on your head and expect a few rupees if they are successful. Merchants are quick to find a foreigner. We wandered around just looking. It was very crowded. At a fork in the river a giant statue of Shiva stands, snakes climbing about his body. How fitting. Satan has not been so subtle it seems in Hinduism.
We walked through the narrow, crowded marketplaces. We ate at another veg restaurant, Chotiwalla - delicious. We were hounded by beggars when we started to hand out oranges. Edwin had to physically pull me out of the crowd. We finally made our way to the bus stand and travelled to Dehradun and to Mussoorie.
Rishikesh and Haridwar were dark places. I could very much sense the hopelessness. You could see it in people's eyes. I stood in sadness and disgust at ornate temples and shrines. You could smell it in the air. I'm still trying to sort through what I saw and what God is teaching me. I know that it will be an experience I will remember the rest of my life.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Lucknow
I've just arrived back in Mussoorie from a project trip to Lucknow in Uttar Pradesh. I traveled with a small EMI team by taxi to Dehradun, train to Delhi, and train to Lucknow. In Delhi we met with two volunteers, a Canadian architect and an engineer from Colorado. I wanted to share with you a little about my experience so here we go.
The trip did not begin well. When I woke up the first morning in Delhi I was feeling far from well. I skipped breakfast and found myself releasing the contents of my stomach from my mouth. I spent the entire day sleeping. Any attempt to get up and walk made me dizzy. My entire being ached. I missed out on a day of sight seeing and my first meeting with our new friends was simply "Hi, I'm Harry. Nice to meet you." Back to sleep.
Fortunately, my health improved the next morning and I was able to join the team for our ening meeting at Safdarjung's Tomb. Though still feeling a little less than par it was great to get out of bed and see the city and get to know the volunteers. It is so cool how God pulls people from different backgrounds and places in life to come to strange lands to aid in His Kingdom. God is cool. We wandered around Delhi a bit, saw Red Fort, and caught our train to Lucknow.
I slept most of the way and the rest of the guys stayed up talking and reading. About two hours before our arrival a bit after midnight, I joined them. I learned our architect Kelly was a SketchUp guru, a beta tester since before it was bought up by Google. Martin enlightened us to the workings of the Denver water system. We played pictionary telephone and had a jolly good time. We arrived, packed ourselves into an SUV with little wiggle room, they had three young guys come pick us up so it was a bit tight with us and our equipment.
We came to Lucknow to aid a ministry with their latest facility in Lucknow. I had already met with the leader with my team leader a few weeks previous. A visionary and a dreamer, Isaac shared with us big ideas for their new place. On their 1.5 acres they wanted to host and teach 100 full-time students and for the campus to host monthly conferences up to 500. Prayer and worship were at the center of his heart. The site is flat and in the middle of a semi-suburban village district in Lucknow. I was simply ecstatic to see it had a definite boundary with walls and legal documentation! Currently, they operate out of a small 3 bedroom building that existed on the site to teach 6-10 students who come for monthly and yearly training courses.
Work work work, we wasted little time to get started. It was exciting to work with Kelly and Matt and we jumped straight into SketchUp, quickly generating massing models. I am never a fan of group projects but this was great! I learned a few new tricks, too and was very happy to hear Kelly affirm that I was well on my way to SketchUp mastery! Not much to talk about the week really so I'll skip a few days to Saturday.
Isaac Shaw came to visit to look over our work, answer new questions, and to comment on how we should continue in our design. He loved the work, blah blah blah. Skip the meeting.
Then he shared about his personal experiences with the Living God. Mmm. He talked about as he has been preaching the word for over 25 years now that he has been learning to preach to himself. To always fill his heart with God's Word and Truth. He talked about a British pilot shot down over Czechelslovakia in WWII. He was tortured and beaten to weaken him. He was determined that no matter how they try to destroy his body they could not destroy his heart. He walked 8 miles on a fractured leg. He was put up to the firing squad 3 times and never killed. He never lost hope and the Nazis never wounded his heart.
He shared about his quiet times with God - meditating every morning on the Word. Deliberately going through one word at a time. "The Lord is my shephard." The - the one, the only, absolute. Lord - Elohim, Alpha and Omega, The One True God, The King. Is - not was! not will be! right now and always. My - not my mothers, not some one elses, my personal friend and God. Shephard - not my hunter, not my teacher, not my landlord! My shephard who leads me! The verses he meditates on in the morning he will repeat through the day. Anytime he is reminded, he prays them to himself. It was quite like the repetition in the mantras of Hinduism, but a meditation on the Word of the King.
He talked about how as he has grown older he becomes even more acutely aware of his failure, his shortcomings, his sin. How he desperately needs to be sustained by the Truth of God. How important it is for even him, a righteous man by worldly standards to cry out to God in desperation for love and peace and affirmation. He shared of how the last 20 minutes before he falls asleep are the hardest times for him, when the mistakes of the day are all brought to light. He supposed that men in these times turn to drink, to drugs, to sex and pornography because in these times they are weakest and need outlet, a distraction, filling the hole in their hearts God placed inside each one of us with the things of the world. How important in these weakest times that we still press closer to God with all our being!
He shared about the religions of India. "My people perish for lack of wisdom." He shared about his mentors who were many and I hurriedly wrote down their names to research. I will share them with you though I don't know much of any of them.
Dick Lucas
Dr. John Stotter
David JAckman
Alec Mateir
Alexander and Robert Duff
Sadhu Sundar Singh
Bauth Singh
Zachariah Forman
Ian Bowns
Rev. John Hyde
I look forward to learning of them and I hope you consider googling them. Let me know what you find!
The next day (Sunday) we had two worship services. One for ourselves in English, praising God with some mp3s and a lesson from a podcast. Then in Hindi with the guys at the center. We were invited to share a song as well. We were happy we weren't asked to preach the Word on spot.
That day we wandered around Lucknow. We went to Sahara Ganj, a very nice mall and had KFC. Chicken never tasted so good after an entire week of rice and dal! We arrived to the begging hands of a woman and her daughter. Unable to look away, I gave the woman a rs 50 note - an average daily wage. She barely looked at it and stuck her hand again to me for more! I was shocked! I wanted to take the money back I was so upset. But I know God blesses even the ungrateful sometimes.
Then we wandered a market area. Much different from the modern, clean, gaurded mall. The streets were lined with vendors and shops. We stood out like a sore thumb, not another foreigner in sight. Everywhere we were met with stares, some of curiousity, others of disdain. What can you do but smile back and bobble your head like an Indian.
Then to Imam Bara. A huge mosque and a tourist attraction their were hundreds of Indians, some tourists, some Muslim pilgrims. It was interesting. As we approached I saw a man beggin on the ground. He had no feet. His hands outstreched. It didn't surprise me that no one else in the group saw him. I quietly walked back to him and crouched beside him. Rs100 was his. My heart would not be calloused from the ungrateful woman that morning. He put his hands together in thanks and pointed to the sky. How desperately I wished I could tell him about Jesus. I touched his shoulder and looked into his eyes. I wonder how many people simply drop a coin in his hand and walk away. On the way out I saw his crutches leaning against a wall around a corner.
We toured some more, seeing The Residency, the site of a rebellion in 1857. Only ruins and a gravesite remain of the British compound. Many missionaries were among the killed in the months of fighting. It was interesting to think how victory and defeat always have two perspectives...
That night I stayed up talking with Sunil, a young guy who is now a teacher for this ministry. He shared about his story, his family. He came to know Jesus through a radio program. He was looking for Bollywood tunes and came across a Christian radio program. By the hand of God his hand stayed off the dial for its entirety and he became determined to learn about this Jesus they spoke of. He wrote the producers and received a New Testament and other material. He put his trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. A young Christian man in a Hindu family, he struggled for acceptance and to share this new life with his father and mother. After a while they accepted his new beliefs. One day he challenged his father. "You put your trust in idols that have no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no nose to smell, no tongue to speak. You trust them to take away your sins. Why not put your trust in Jesus and see if His power is greater?" He accepted the challenge and soon after accepted Jesus into his heart. He could not deny the True Power of the Living God. Now his entire family is saved and is active in their community.
Oh how my heart ached as he shared. How desperately I long for my father to know Jesus. He is not a myth. He is not a great teacher. He was not just a good man. He was the Son of God sent to save every single one of us from the sin that keeps us from God. I do not worship him for a feeling. I do not follow him for adventure. I do not trust in him simply because I fear death. I trust and believe because he has come into my heart and changed my entire being. Where I was once a sinner lost in pornography, searching for acceptance from man, cynical of a screwed up world, desperate for a father's love, finding prestige in good grades and high position. I am no wholly redeemed by the God of the Universe who came down to this screwed up, undeserved world, saw me in the crowd gathered to watch and mock Him as he was raised upon the cross, looked into my heart and said "I want to save you!" I don't deserve anything from God. He set a standard and I fell so short. There is no thing I could ever do that would make me right before Him. But he saved me! He has changed my outlook on life, how I look at others, how I see the world. It has challenged my dreams, it will shape my future. I weep for the world that does not know the Grace and Love of Jesus!
If you do not know Jesus, if you think that Christianity is just another "religion," another way, then I challenge you, I beg and I plead and I pray that you will give it just one chance, if only one. Read just one gospel. Ask Jesus and challenge Him to live up to His promises and even to come into your heart. He will answer! My God does not stay hidden from those who seek Him.
I had a dream last night that my father met Jesus.
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