Kolkata Postscript

This is probably the last entry in our Kolkata blog, unless my fellow bloggers think of something else to write that is. I hope you have enjoyed sharing our physical, emotional and spiritual adventures over the past three weeks. We all have a lot to think about and reflect upon and I am sure that not one of us returned without being changed in some way. If you would like to follow those of us who are regular bloggers then you will see them added to the “useful links” on this page. A big thank-you for all our followers and contributors, to our team leaders Sian and Stuart Murray-Williams who were always there when we needed them with a word of encouragement or a wise word, but mostly I thank God for travelling mercy’s and for bringing our team safely home to our family, friends and churches. Praise Him!

 

 

Reflections on Kolkata

You exit the cool of your air-conditioned room into the sauna hot and humid air of Kolkata, gather in the shade and then board two 4x4 vehicles to your next destination. The guard opens the compound gates and you merge into the chaos of taxi’s, buses, trams, motorbikes, cycles, auto’s, rickshaws of several different varieties, and delivery trucks. The families living on the pavement outside the compound wave and shout “uncle, baby-milk” as you drive into the maelstrom.

Auto’s – LPG powered three wheel transport

You head down the road, avoiding traffic coming in the wrong direction, pedestrians crossing on all sides, already starting to sweat from the heat even though the air-conditioning is doing its best. Out of the window it seems there are people everywhere, the roads are crammed with small, open, shop-fronts the size of garden sheds with similar businesses lined up together in different areas of the city; motorcycles spares and repair shop leak oil and smother grease onto the pavement itself crammed with people selling hot food and tea. Occasionally you pass a larger building, a shadow of its former glory, covered in black mould and soot, paint peeling off, often with trees and vines covering the exterior. People crouch half-naked in the street washing themselves at a tap at the edge of the road, or the dirty water from a burst water pipe as motorcycles - laden with father, mother, daughter, baby and produce - zoom perilously close to the mass of other vehicles and all the while the incessant sound of thousands of horns, saying ‘I am here, watch out for me.’

You pass through a surreal almost post-apocalypse landscape of old and decaying buildings, brightly painted government buildings – often in the deep-red and pale-yellow of the old East India Company – countless unfinished projects that seemingly lie abandoned. The detritus of human occupation is everywhere, rubbish litters the streets or decays in piles next to the side of the road, grime and dirt covers everything, and what seems like piles of rubbish neatly stacked against walls actually marks the presence of a street family who don’t have the means to build a shelter on the pavement.

The shops start to change, the beggars and street families disappear, the traffic starts to obey the traffic signals, and construction seems to be less unfinished and more work-in-progress. You notice a KFC, a music shop, a MacDonald’s, and lovely avenues of small trees line the pavements, smartly dressed 20-something Indians in western clothing and designer sunglasses exit their expensive cars and enter the air-conditioned western-style shops and coffee houses. You are in the wealthier part of town a haven for the high-caste, the educated and the rich (often an attribute of the same person), but still the cacophony of horn’s, the grime, the dust, the detritus.

You arrive at your destination and exit the heat and sweat of the vehicle back into the extraordinary heat of Kolkata, greeted by the head of today’s mission project and his staff. Taken into a grimy room, in a grimy building you sit in plastic garden chairs and aim for those situated under the many ceiling fans that will provide some respite from the heat, hoping that the air will dry off some of the sweat that runs down your face, back and legs. Someone gives you a glass of cool Pepsi and a small biscuit to welcome and refresh you.

People then start to tell you about the amazing work they are doing in Kolkata or in the villages around it; stories of thousands of conversions and hundreds of villages coming to faith; the need for more workers in the plentiful harvest; the faithful reliance and belief in the power of prayer. You are asked to give a word or to pray for those present and are whisked off to see day-schools and boarding schools where you sing and act out silly sketches for the children, and where they dance and sing in return.

Or maybe your meeting takes you out of the traffic of Kolkata onto dusty road’s that lead to the interior and past the throat searing stench of the tanners. The volume of traffic decreases but it is still nightmarishly scary as the taxis are replaced by trucks, the beautiful painting and decorations on the front obscured by dust and detritus. You speed past more unfinished projects, and skirt along the side of heavily polluted canal’s full of rubbish that spills into the canal from fly-tipping on the bank, or out of the back of someone’s house. Small industry’s pour their toxic waste-products, tipped with foam, into the waters turning it inky-black, dark-blue or a strange green. Water snakes pick their way through the detritus and occasionally children and adults search for fish in the waters from the bank or a small, rickety canoe. The trees become more numerous and tropical combining with fields of rice to provide an agricultural landscape. Refreshment shacks, small settlements, businesses, and men urinating at the side of the street in full view of passers-by. We drive through villages with scarcely enough room for our vehicle, crammed with people buying all kinds of foods and products from vendors on the side of the road, vehicles coming in the opposite direction and pedestrians seemingly unaware of the dangers of traffic. Arriving at your destination you exit the vehicle and walk into the village with its many bamboo walled and thatched houses, making your way through the cool of the shade from coconut palms to the centre of the village. You find a patch of ground where you encourage the local children to play games and sports, they join in – nervously at first and then exuberantly – and are joined by their mothers and fathers and other adults of the village. Your team sings a song, performs a sketch, you share a testimony – all translated by a member of the mission organisation you happen to be working with – and a local pastor finishes this off with a word from God and call for a response. You meet the village elders, say your goodbyes and return to your vehicle sweaty and exhausted in the knowledge that a dozen people have come to Christ and that a house church will be starting in that village.

You return through the Kolkata traffic to the safety of the compound, the gate opens whilst the street-families shout “uncle, baby-milk.” You exit the vehicle dishevelled and sweaty but not ready to consign yourself to the small room you share with your friend. In a small group you head out of the compound and stop and talk to the street-family, maybe sharing some food or giving them baby-milk you have recently bought at the supermarket, doubting in your head that they will use this for the twins Peter and Paul, or if they will sell it back to a shop and use the money for alcohol. The twins in filthy vests and no underwear clamour around you asking for food and sit on your lap as you rest on your haunches. You say your goodbyes and make your way past the sleeping dogs – covered in scars and running sores with masses of hair missing, constantly pestered by flies – getting ready to put in a swift kick if the dog should exhibit any sign of aggression knowing that a bite from one of these could result in rabies or any other disease that could see you admitted to one of the filthy, dilapidated hospitals of which there are plenty in Kolkata. The smells begin to assault your senses as you walk past trees where men and dogs have urinated or worse, past the wooden shacks selling spicy, aromatic food, past open drains of filthy water, or fragrant flowers growing from the wall of a former residence, itself now fully succumbed to the decay of Kolkata. And always the incessant sound of the traffic which you pick your way through, not gingerly now but aggressively like a local, watching both ways as drives do not always conform to the correct direction of the traffic. The heat, humidity, sun, smells and noise continue to offend your senses until you dive into the oasis that is an air-conditioned shopping mall, you browse past all the brightly coloured stalls selling everything from children’s clothes to watches and women’s underwear. You make your purchases, amazed at how ridiculously cheap it is for you, but how incredibly expensive it would be for someone on the average wage of 50 Rupees per day, equivalent to £62.5p.

On the walk back to the compound you take Park Street and stop off at the Supermarket to buy cold cans of coke and luxuries like chocolate and cashew nuts, you put the purchases in your rucksack so as not to attract the attention of the beggars. You walk past the street vendors now busy from the afternoon trade; rows of smartly-dressed businessman sit on a low wall eating rice and dhal with their hands as the owner buzzes around them refilling cups, delivering plates of food and taking money. His charcoal stove burns red hot, the smells and heat of his business add to the heat and smells you are already experiencing. You walk past rows of trucks and taxi’s with their drivers asleep with doors open, past the Mazda car showroom with its sparkling glass windows, protected behind a low wrought-iron, dilapidated fence where security guards patrol the forecourt and man a gate-house. Past the pretty Circular Road Baptist Church with its tall pale-yellow columns and green shrubs that spill out foliage through the fence.

You are back at the compound, you bang on the door and the security guard lets you in and gives you your room key and making your way through the compound with its tall trees, garden and lawn, the sound of the traffic somewhat quietened by the high walls but replaced by the cries of the dozens of hooded crows that call the compounds trees home. You enter the slight cooler accommodation block and make your way up the two flights of stairs and into the air-conditioned heaven of your room. The heat has taken its toll so you put of fresh clothes, close the curtains and lay on the bed, listening to the sound of the air-conditioning, babies occasionally crying in the homes that can be seen from your window. You lay there, exhausted by the heat, trying to process all that you have seen and heard that day to share at the group reflection time this evening. Will you ever come back to this grimy, dilapidated, smelly, unfinished, hot and humid city that is so full of life, but life often lived on the edge of death? Will you ever get to work with the amazing pastors, ministers and Christian in this enigmatic place, where there is a great sense of hope in God and the gospel and a harvest that is ripe? It is 3 o’clock, the hottest time of the day, the thermometer hits its peak and you drift off to sleep with all these thoughts in your head.

Abagail's Story

Abigail is a little girl that we met this morning, the daughter of the head of the National Fellowship in India, Sunil. Her story is interesting. It began one evening when Sunil received a phone call from a family asking if he would take their new born baby, it was a girl and they didn’t want her, they wanted a boy. It’s a cultural thing that has horrific consequences, I have read quite often in the papers here about infanticide (the killing of a infant, in this case it is always a girl), abortions because the parents have found out the sex, fathers killing the baby in the womb of their daughters, all of this because of their determination to have a boy. We were shown some quite graphic pictures concerning this practice which statistically accounts for 7% of the population and if you work this out against the staggering birth rate 100+ girl’s per minute are being killed or allowed to die. Abigail’s story is a lot happier than this, Sunil and his wife went immediately and collected the girl who is now a healthy and quite confident girl, being brought up in a loving Christian home.

Abigail

The reality here is quite shocking, but it is the reality and it is important that we were exposed to the bare facts in some way during our trip. There are also other shocking practices and ordeals that infants have to go through such as the practice of dropping them from the top of a temple to a group of people holding a sheet below, as they drop they are said to collect the blessing of a god; some babies survive; some die, often of shock; some are injured and disabled.

We read in Isaiah 49:15 when God is asserting his commitment to Judah "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?” It seems that here in Kolkata she can.

The god that cannot save

A couple of days ago a few of us visited the Kali temple in Calcutta. This is my reflection on the experience. I offer it as someone who believes that Jesus is the only hope for mankind.
Kali is the goddess of the city; the goddess of destruction, but also of time and change; some see her as a benevolent goddess. Saturday was a very busy day in the temple because it was New Year’s Day and many people were hoping to receive a blessing from her to bring them luck in the coming year.
In the courtyard of the temple was a little court with an altar, burning incense sticks, flowers, and two upright stones with just enough room to put your head in between. This is where the animals are sacrificed, and the upright stones were covered with blood. We saw people queuing up to put their head between them, pray, then kiss both stones. Just around the corner we saw a goat that had just been sacrificed, being skinned.
Three of us then went into the temple. It was unbelievably crowded, and around the idol there was an atmosphere of frenzy to try to get close and make an offering to the goddess.
I’m not very sensitive to spiritual atmospheres, and I do think its easy to persuade oneself that there is a sense of spiritual oppression in a place, but I think I detected a sense of darkness. Others said they certainly did. What I felt most (apart from mild panic inside that we might be separated, robbed, co-opted into an act of worship I wasn’t willing to participate in, or crushed to death) was a deep sense of sadness for the people. Their spiritual hunger was so evident, their religious fervour apparent, but there’s no one listening, no hope for them.
I’m reminded of Isaiah 46. Here are some excerpts: Their idols are borne by beasts of burden. The images that are carried about are burdensome, a burden for the weary... I[God] have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you... They lift [their god] to their shoulders and carry it; they set it up in its place, and there it stands. From that spot it cannot move. Though one cries out to it, it does not answer; it cannot save him from his troubles... I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please... What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do.
Oh that these hungry people might meet the Living God!

It Ain't Half Hot Mum

Not the most politically correct start to a blog but a correct statement in any case: today the temperature hit a thermometer busting 101 degrees, but 110 degrees on the heat index (that’s when humidity is taken into account). It is too hot to do anything in the afternoon other than sit in the cool until the sun goes down.

In spite of the debilitating heat (which is due to hit 105 by the weekend) we were ferried off to see yet another project and I have to say this is getting a little monotonous. It has been exciting to see the amazing work being done here in the name of Christ and the tremendous harvest that is taking place, but you can only hear the same story three or four times over for it to get a little tired. My observation is that many were feeling the same today as several eyes started to close and heads started to nod as we sat and listened in a small apartment in Kolkata.

Pastor Asis, Pastor Sutil and Stuart Murray-Williams

Nevertheless there is always a different spin on the story as I experienced today listening to Pastor Sutil, head of Concern and Compassion, a church planting and children’s ministry. Concern and Compassion’s model is to hold a medical camp in a village, to which clinicians donate their time, deal with the physical needs of people in the name of Christ, and then send in a small team of evangelists to live for a while amongst the people making relationships and sharing the good news. This model came about as a result of Pastor Sutil’s own experience when visiting a village early in his ministry: He met a pregnant woman as he got off of the boat, that woman was in labour and had been waiting for the boat for some time, what faced her was a 2 hour boat journey back to the mainland and then an hour by road to the hospital. Sutil prayed for God to help the people of the islands - of which there are over a hundred in this area – even praying for one of his children to study as a doctor so that he could dedicate them to the area. And that is what struck me, to be willing to dedicate a child to the work of God. Although I guess this is cultural – you are expected to listen to your parents and do what they tell you – it also felt very spiritual and biblical. It reminded of me of Hannah who in her joy and to give thanks at the birth of her son, Samuel, gave him to the temple where he would live and serve God always (1 Samuel 1:22). The faith of Sutil is an example of the faith of the Christians of India; he wanted to help the island people so much, he demonstrated the love of Christ so perfectly, that he would give up a child to serve God in this way. The heat may be debilitating, but the faith is inspiring.

Pastors from the Concern & Compassion Team

 

 

 

 

Stop Doubting and Believe

“Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth. Sing to the LORD, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvellous deeds among all peoples.” (Psalm 96:103) Today the team broke up to attend different church services around Kolkata, four of the chaps (Myself, Paul, Peter and Mike) were asked to lead the service at the Big Life Ministry’s church. The theme of the service was Stop Doubting and Believe and we used the text from John 20:19-29 about Doubting Thomas. To bring us to worship we used Psalm 96 and we did exactly what this Psalm said; we “declared his glory among the nations” - of England and India that is. It was very liberating being given a free hand, and it was also a real blessing being part of this small team. Never having really worked together before we seemed to come together in worship, prayer, word and praise. The presence of the spirit was palpable and the joy of the Lord was in our hearts and this seemed to spill over to the congregation. I think it might have been a little louder and livelier than normal – even for this lively church - but if success can be measured by response, then I think we honoured God today as many people were moved by the Spirit to respond to the “altar call”, with several asking for prayer afterwards. It was a real blessing to be part of something so special, so spiritual, so joyful. Sorry there are lots of superlatives in today’s blog but I am still buzzing from this wonderful time.

Post service the leadership of Big Life get together for lunch at a Sikkim restaurant (an area that is in North East India) and we joined them for a time of food and fellowship. It is something else I shall take back to England, with our busy lives when we all dart about from one thing to the next, it is important that the leadership team have a time to share together. At SHBC we do this quite regularly, but lunch after the Sunday service sounds an excellent way to fellowship with our families as well, after all, we are part of the family of God and need to make sure we behave like it.

I have made many friends whilst being in India, especially Kim and Sutil who are both very charming and funny. Whilst the theological discussions were taking place on the other table (which is unusual for Paul and Peter – sorry chaps!!!) Mike and I were laughing and joking with Kim, Sutil, Gillian (Benjamin’s wife) and the rest of the team. What a wonderful day!

P.S. Having had a break between blogging and posting the blog on the website the Lord brought something else back to mind which, I am ashamed to say, I forgot. It was a blot on an otherwise joyous landscape. When we left the church today and gathered to get into the various cars that would take us to the restaurant a small naked boy, who was probably not 2 years old, walked down the street through our group. The boy was sobbing his little heart out, crying for his mummy…..it was a sad reflection on the way some people in Kolkata live; the streets people often leave their children at the mat or pile of rotten, dirty cloths that represent home, to go and do something, somewhere else. Two of the ladies from Big Life picked up the boy and took him back up the street where a community of street-people were living, and after short while deposited the child and returned. The value of life in this place is often zero and this is such a shock to me every time I see it. I am grateful for the projects that hold these people, especially the children, close to their hearts. But there seems so an enormous amount of work to do, amongst a huge amount of hopelessness and deprivation. As I have been reminded so often by people here; "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.” (Matthew 9:37), but in Luke 10:2 it continues; “Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” Join with me asking the Lord of the harvest to send workers to this place of need, but where the harvest is ripe.

 

 

A vision of hell?

Not the brightest way to start a blog I know but appropriate!

Today we decided to go and visit the Hindu temple that is dedicated to Kali, the goddess of death. Why go there you may ask? Well one of the students felt that his “God Appointment“ was there and felt strongly about going there and praying. What made today’s visit more interesting was the fact that it was Bengali New Year so the place was heaving.

Kali Temple

The bright temple is situated amongst the filth, detritus and rubbish that is often seen Kolkata and surrounded by many stall’s selling things to be used as gifts for the goddess. Being conspicuous we were whisked away by a Brahmin chap (Brahmin’s are the priestly caste of Hindu’s) and taken into the temple courts. We waited there whilst some of our party went into the temple and the spiritual atmosphere was oppressive. I prayed the Lord’s prayer, recited Psalm 23 and prayed some more, it wasn’t that I was scared it was just that it wasn’t very nice. This was in spite of the life that was going on around us, people eating, chatting, cooking, buying things. To me it gave me some impression of what the temple in Jerusalem would have been like, particularly when we saw them butchering a freshly slaughtered goat in the corner. Amongst all this something quite amazing happened that demonstrated the presence of the one true God amongst us; whilst waiting for the rest of our party to arrive five of us stood in a small group praying. I noticed a girl of about fourteen carrying a small child and pestering all the adherents for money. My immediate thought was that we were next as being obviously western we are always the target for beggars, because of this I called out to God with a kind of “not again” prayer. What happened next was pretty amazing, the girl walked around us, stood right next to me, but it was if she couldn’t see us there, I had a vision of a barrier covering our group completely. She then walked away to another part of the temple.

In our reflection time tonight someone said it was like a vision of hell and I think that sums it up. This colourful beautiful temple in the middle of all this detritus, with people clambering in the temple to get their prayers answered (as reported by someone who went in the temple), but all of them without hope. We prayed for some time tonight, that those we saw at the temple would find the truth. Please join us in that prayer.

Next to the temple and in the same complex is a drab but quite impressive structure that housed Mother Theresa’s hospice for the sick and dying, it is not operational as it is being refurbished, but still it was amazing to see this icon of hope and joy, with it’s crucifix on top, standing next to a place of hopelessness and fear. It was also quite poignant to see an elderly couple sleeping on the steps of this building, waiting with a hope that wasn’t forlorn, outside a place that knew sickness and death but also knew the love and mercy of God.

Mother Theresa’s Hospice

 

 

5 Minutes of fame

It is a hot and sunny morning here in Kolkata it is unusual for me to be writing this blog at this time but it was a late night last night, which I will get to in a moment.

Yesterday I broke off from the team to go and meet a friend and colleague of my dear friend Doug Armstrong. Swapan Roy works for Global Recordings Network (www.globalrecordings.net) in Kolkata and Doug said I might want to look him up. I already had an understanding of what GRN does, but hearing it from someone who works in the field and listening the stories of some of his adventures amongst the tribes in the interior brought it all to life for me; travelling 4 days for a 1 day meeting in hot, humid conditions and sometimes into hostile places is a testament to the courage and dedication of people like Brother Swapan, and quite a common attribute amongst many of the Christians I have met during my time in Kolkata. Once again I see Indian Christians living out the words of Paul “I am no ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for everyone who believes.” It was also nice to meet Swapan’s family (wife and two teenage daughters) and share a meal with them. I hope that I will be able to come back to India and spend some time travelling with Brother Swapan, I am sure that would be a great adventure.

Our main social activity during our stay here was to go and see a T20 cricket match between the Kolkata Knight Riders (the local team) and the Rajasthan Royals. It was an amazing experience made even more special by the fact that we became minor celebrities for the evening. People were quite surprised to see five white blokes decked out in KKR colours (some even had their faces painted) and asked for our photographs to be taken with them and videoed us when we were all dancing to the Bangla music played during “half-time.” Not much theological reflection, although Peter did invite one of our “fans” to church, but an excellent evening out. Oh, and we won!

Jute bags and Hosea

It’s been a while since I blogged, but today I’d like to share a story I witnessed today.
We visited two projects working with sex workers. The one I want to tell you about is called Freeset – it’s quite well known and you may have seen their jute bags around. They employ 250 women who were trapped, tricked or driven to prostitution (many trafficked from elsewhere). First they train them part-time while they are still ‘working’. Then they give them to option of joining the project full-time. They are not obliged to end their trade but encouraged to do so. They make jute bags, canvas bags and t-shirts. They have access to unlimited drinking water, and a free nursery for their little children; other than that they have to stand on their own feet – in particular, they are not found alternative accommodation, as the hope is that they will then be able to transform society from the inside. Some are still living in the brothel but paying rent to their pimp. I can’t imagine what that must be like. They employ some men within the project (unlike, for example, the 125 project in Bristol) but have a very very low tolerance for these men’s behaviour – any inappropriate attitudes towards the women and they are out. They idea is that part of the women’s rehabilitation is to learn healthy relationships with Indian men – and that there are some decent ones around. The encouraging statistic we heard today is that 96% of the women they work with come out and stay out of prostitution.
As we were looking around the building, we spotted a pin-board with a wedding photograph. There they were, bride and groom, beaming into the camera, as you’d expect. But it turns out this was one of the women who had been helped by the project. And there she was, smiling and happy and starting a new life, dressed in a white dress! What a wonderful picture of salvation! I’m reminded of the story of Hosea (check it out if you haven’t read it lately). God uses the image of a man who marries a prostitute to mirror his faithful love towards his unfaithful people. ‘Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards... there she will sing as in the days of her youth... In that day, declares the LORD, you will call me ‘my husband’: you will no longer call me ‘my master’.’

Sweat shop: No photo's

As you walk into the dilapidated, hot and dusty building of FreeSet with its rows of sewing machines at which about dozen ladies sat and sewed the word “sweat shop” comes to mind and one can wander off into self-righteousness thinking about the exploitation of the impoverished by wealthy western corporations. This image is far from the truth of what is going on here, in fact this tall, busy building situated near the Kolkata red-light district represents hope for hundreds of girls trying to escape the sex-trade. Many women from the countryside are tricked into a life of prostitution by offers to the family of a job in the city and some are just trafficked into it.

FreeSet (http://freesetglobal.com/who-we-are/our-story.html) has given hope to these women and their children for the past ten-years by training them to produce the many types of products that FreeSet provide to the UK, USA, Australia and New Zealand. This includes bags, t-shirts and other objects – some of which bear the logos and marketing phrases of western corporations. It is a business that is built on faith, fuelled with hope and managed in the love of Christ, whose story is amazing, but not as amazing as the stories of the women in employs, more than that, the women it gives hope to. King David wrote “No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame” and that is what I saw on the faces of these women as we toured the buildings. Their journey from where they were back to a normal life may be a long one, their journey to faith in Christ may be even longer, but they are on the journey and that what is important. Praise God!

 

Coconuts on the Veranda

Oh wow! I thought it couldn’t get any better than yesterday but boy oh boy it did. To the extent that a couple of days ago I thought this was a useful experience, but I would never come back. What I have learnt in the past two days from Pastor Benjamin has been amazing and I think that many in our church, especially those who focus on outreach, would benefit from spending some time with this most amazing, humble, passionate Godly man.

Today we travelled north for two hours in the mad, sweltering traffic of Kolkata, experiencing the smells of the tanners for the first time – I thought Kolkata was bad!!! We then got onto a boat and travelled for about 20 minutes into the interior and on the border with Bangladesh. We arrived at a village that – like many of the thousands of villages in the area – formed the centre of a brick making business owned by the village elder. The bricks were made by hand in pits next to the river, dried in the sun, then fired in the furnace. Unexpectedly all of the buildings in this small village were made of bricks, not all of which were actually fired being of a grey rather than red colour.

Our Transport

The format for the visit was the same as yesterday, however we found out that there were many Muslims in the village, which is why we came across an imam when we first arrived, so the atmosphere was a little strained at first. But the presence of white men and women (not often seen in these parts) was enough of a novelty factor, as were my attempts to try out my Bengali. They let us do our sports with the children and the women, listened to the gospel, chatted with us and saw us on our way.

The next village was quite a different experience. Big Life were running a health clinic so whilst the ladies and the 2 husbands stayed to help out at the make-shift clinic, Pastor Benjamin and the men went for a prayer walk. To cut a long story short we ended up in the home of one of the village elders (unusually a women) and spent a long time talking with them, drinking coconut milk from coconuts that one of the young lads had stripped from a coconut palm, and sharing the gospel with them. It was almost a surreal experience as we sat on their veranda, outside their bamboo hut with a mud floor, looking out across paddy fields, fish farms and the river, drinking coconut milk straight from the coconut. But it was also a God experience as they listened attentively to our stories, the gospel and prayed with us. This extended, matriarchal family consisting of four family units has now asked to be taught more about this Jesus; praise God! Oh and they also invited us (the English) to visit with them again.

Our new friends

Every time we do this I hear the words "I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile.” I pray that I am able to assimilate all that I have learned in this short time from Pastor Benjamin because I know that if I can, then I will be a better minister, a better pastor and a better man able to serve God.

 

 

 

 

Church Planting - Big Life Style

Today we joined Pastor Benjamin Francis, one of the most exciting and energetic ministers I have ever met. Scratch that, he is THE most exciting and energetic minister I have ever met. Pastor Benjamin’s project is Big Life Ministries (not to be confused with the American organisation of the same name) who specialise in bringing the gospel in innovative ways to the thousands of villages that surround Kolkata, which is where 80% of the population live. If you want to measure success in numbers, since 2003 he has planted 7,500 churches and has seen over 100,000 conversions and tens of thousands of baptism’s.

His model is simple; go to the centre of the village and start playing games with the children, this draws the adults in. The adults tend to invite you to their homes which gives you the opportunity to share your testimony and the gospel.

Today we drove 2 1/2 hours to Diamond Harbour on the Bay of Bengal to a village to take part in this; the men played games with the children with the adults looking on, we then did a little sketch and a song (with a translator), then one of the Big Life team shared the gospel. While we were doing this the women went into the homes to visit and drink tea with the women. As a result of all of this is that there is now a new church in Diamond Harbour, several people gave their lives to Christ (Hallelujah) and one of them has invited Big Life to start a house church at their house. Their first meeting is this Saturday. Before we left I prayed that we would all come together as a group, put aside any discomfort, uneasiness or fear and meet with God in a big way. This certainly happened today at that little village on the edge of the Bay of Bengal, praise God!!!! Please pray for these new Christians, please pray for the work of Big Life Ministries and Pastor Benjamin and please pray for us as we go into the interior tomorrow (Wednesday) to do this again.

Paul “Big Mac” teaching the Big Banana song

 

 

 

God Appointment

I mentioned the other day about my feeling that God had appointments for all of us whilst we were here in Kolkata. For me it was to go and talk to those living on the street outside the BMS compound. If you remember in earlier blogs I was looking for a translator to help me speak to them but this didn’t happen. Today, with prompting from the Lord, I kept that appointment. I bought some milk and other basic provisions and went to meet the family not knowing how to talk to them and a little worried about how I was going to fare. Oh me of little faith! Like Philip on the Jerusalem to Gaza road God already had it sorted out. There are three sisters - one middle-aged; one in her late twenties and one who is twelve – and the youngest two spoke very good English, well more than enough English for us to hold a long conversation. I was joined by another student Sam (a man with a bigger heart you will not find) and we spent about thirty minutes with them just asking them questions about their lives and their prospects. They had always lived on the streets, their parents had lived on the streets and their children were learning how to live on the streets. Like millions of Indian’s it was too expensive even to live in the villages, which is why they lived as they did. It is amazing that there is such wealth in India yet little of it find its way down to the poor and unfortunate. The Christian mission’s here do an amazing about of good work with meagre resources, but the caste system that is endemic in Indian culture constantly works against this. However, it was a little encouraging to hear that the youngest sister was going to school and learning English – demonstrated by her reciting the alphabet and counting to twenty – which is essential if you want to get a good job. I just hope and pray that her new found knowledge gives her a new found freedom away from a life on the streets.

 

 

Ecumenical Adventures

He is Rise!!!! Hallelujah!!! Happy Easter!!!!!

What an amazing day today, Easter Day in Kolkata! This morning was a pretty typical, but very pleasant service at the Circular Road Baptist Church next door to the BMS compound. It was the afternoon that really made the whole day and was the highlight of the trip for me thus far. My partner in crime Paul and I were invited to attend an Easter Day parade. The parade consisted of several churches meeting and then individually marching to one of the large parks in the city, joining up along the route to create a huge body of people walking, singing, praising God and giving out tracts to the locals. It was the first event of it’s kind in over 30 years in the city, the last one sadly ending in a bit of a riot due to some non-Christian interlopers, and drew a huge crowd of onlookers, Christians and the local press.

The march ended, after 2km in 100deg heat and 90% humidity, in the city park with a huge worship concert of about 2,000 Christians. It was an amazing event and a great privilege to be part of, I shall remember it for the rest of my life and the joy of it still rests in my heart. There were a couple of things that were a pleasant surprise during the evening, the first was seeing a number of nuns from the Missionaries of Charity Order – the Order that Mother Theresa belonged to – joining in with the concert. I didn’t expect to be sitting next to a couple of nun’s, in a park in Kolkata, worshipping Jesus! The second, and most poignant was the fact that the entire event was the brainchild of a senior catholic clergyman who had worked to bring together Catholics, Anglicans, Methodists, Baptists, Assemblies of God, Greek Orthodox and Syrian Orthodox denominations to celebrate Easter Sunday in this way. The Psalmist wrote “How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!” and this event was a marvelous display of Christian unity even more surprising for me that it was a Catholic who was the force behind it, so often the church, particularly the Catholic’s, invite bad press by their comments that do not express unity. This was an amazing example of how the church, the entire church of God, can come together in unity to worship God. What a spectacle!!!!

 

 

 

 

Hi,

Yesterday and today were 'rest days'. Yesterday went into city cventre on a rickshaw. A bit scary given the madeness of Indian traffic, no one keeps to the right side of the road and they beep their horns at each other all the time - the jeep driver who escorts us round has already had a few scrapes with mortorists. The man cycling the rickshaw struggled to cycle carrying two of us! It was poignant going into the 'richer' part of the city - going into a DVD store for example, where James Bond was being sold for 300 rupees, which would feed a beggar family outsdide the store for a whole week.

It has also been uncmfortable seeing how Indians are treating us white British almost like gods. Im very conscious of being a westerner and Indians in the higher castes very protective of white British. One one occasion, Indian told off beggars for hassling us for money. Indians in hotel also very respectful of us. Money goes so far out here. Im not wealthy in UK but here I am.

Today we went to see the different historical sites. Interesting to see British colonialism links. British Empire buildings are all painted red and yellow in the city. Went to Kolkata Cathedral, and saw River Ganges. Tomorrow we have a choice between going on a Christian march of witness to Victoria Square or going to Mother Thersa's house to pray. It is very hot and so Im not sure I fancy walking 2 miles there and back, also told there may be violence, so will go to Mother House instead.

The next 10 days will be very intense. Been told to prepare for seeing worse sights when we go out to rural villages.

Hope everyone is ok. Bye for now, Sam x

Tough Questions and Challenging Answers

I think everyone here has been struggling with the begging and how to respond; do you ignore the beggar and carry on your way; do you give to the beggar and risk being plagued by beggars the next time you walk by the same area. This is particularly prevalent for those of us staying at the Hotel Heaven as several times daily we walk to the BMS compound and back. Outside the BMS compound live two families – both of which have small children of about 3 or 4 years of age – and when I say live I mean live. They sleep, eat, wash and play on the pavement in the filth of Kolkata.

I have been troubled with this despite of having encountered this before elsewhere in the world, and because of those experiences I mostly ignored the approaches of those outside the BMS compound But the passages that kept coming back to me were Jesus’ words in Matthew 25:40 “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” and James’ advice in chapter 2 about the poor. On Wednesday evening we were all reflecting on this during our prayer time and none of us seem to know what to do. During prayer I asked God to guide me in this, to tell me what I should do, particularly with the families outside the gate. The response I got was to go and talk to them, to try and understand why they were there and how they got there. I had a vision of sitting on the floor talking to them. I was a little uncomfortable with this so decided to sleep on it, but the sleep was troubled, God’s response kept coming back to me.

The next evening I took Sian (our team leader) to one side to share this with her and ask her advice. If I was really going to do this then I should get an interpreter. As usual her advice was solid; talk to the BMS staff to check if they were already doing outreach with the families outside the compound and, if not, ask them how I might make an approach to them without creating a difficult legacy for them and future visitors. After all if what I did made the begging and harassment of visitors even worse then that would be a bad thing.

So what next, well I have prayed about this and this evening during prayer with my good friend and brother Paul I felt that God was making appointments for all of us during our time in Kolkata, Paul has his and this, I believe, is my appointment. I will, of course, keep you posted.

Christ and Curry in Kolkata

It is Good Friday today and I woke up with breath smelling like last nights curry, nothing good about that.
Its been a tough journey so far and we've only been here for 4 days [two weeks to go] but its been hard on the sense's, mentally, physically and spiritually. There is a lot to take in and I am in the process of contemplating..... WHERE IS GOD IN THE CITY? Of course I know the pet answer,'God is omnipresent', but my heart tells me differently. The city is full of homeless people living on the pavements and living in slums, make shift houses made from things that people have thrown away, bits of wood, metal, scrap, plastic, anything really. 18 million people living in Kolkata and these are the registered ones. It is estimated that millions more who are unregistered are living on the streets. The traffic in the city is dense where anything goes. yellow taxi's, tuk tuks and rickshaws both the hand and peddaled variety. There are no laws on the roads with no health and safety practices in place, so risks are constantly taken. Travelling on the roads is very entertaining for the team and scary. There is constant beeping all day and throughout the night. The beeping is a way of life and expresses many meanings.........

1. Get out the way I'm cutting you up.
2. Let me through or I'll go into the back of you
3. I almost went into you *#~? fool
4. Don't argue, you're are a Tut Tut and I am a truck.
5. No you can't get through

I joke. But living here is no joke and its been a real shock to me as I have never been anywhere so poor as this. I can see how it touched the heart of Mother Theresa.
Up until today I have been feeling a sense of hoplessness and questioning where God is? Today I have walked through the city and have experienced how resourseful the people are and this has given me hope. God spoke to me saying 'Just because you cannot see hope it doesn't mean its not there', I found that encouraging. Of course I still have many questions but I am begining to hear the still small voice of God. But I waiting in anticipation that His voice will get louder as i unravel the reason I have come here in the first place

Mare

Grabbed by the scruff of the neck

I am continually amazed at the power of the Bible to leap off the page and grab me by the scruff of the neck. Never more so than when I read it in a different setting than usual. Never more so than yesterday.

In our devotions as a team, we are using the lectionary readings for Holy Week. One of the readings yesterday was Psalm 116, where the song-writer thanks God for delivering him: “I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy... The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came over me; I was overcome by distress and sorrow… For you, Lord, have delivered me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling.”

Yesterday we spent the day visiting two hostels opened for children who live on the streets. We’ve seen many such children; they wash in drains, they are dirty, ragged, often sick, and I presume malnourished. They have no healthcare, no education, no hope. In contrast the children in the hostels were bright-eyed, energetic, smartly-dressed, clean, and confident. It was particularly brought home to me when a group of older girls, perhaps about 12 years old, performed a dance for us. These were children with self-respect, with confidence and with good reason to have hope. “You have delivered me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling.” What a picture of salvation!

Of course yesterday was Maundy Thursday, the day of Jesus’ last supper, betrayal and trial. It was also the day when he washed his disciples’ feet and told them to do the same. For many of us, this trip to India is the first time that we have really understood what it is to have dusty, sweaty dirty feet, all the time. It makes me read the account of the foot-washing with more attention.

In the morning, we watched little street children (babies, really) being brought to a pre-school, showered and given clean clothes to wear while their own clothes were washed. “‘Do you understand what I have done for you?’ Jesus asked them. ‘You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.’”

We read the gospel account alongside the hymn of Philippians 2: “Jesus, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!” The passage charts Jesus’ downward trajectory (which includes his self-abasement to wash the disciples’ feet) Son of God to human to death to crucifixion, the most shameful death of all.

Reading this passage in the context of the slums of Calcutta made me wonder: if Jesus were incarnated – made human – in this city today, who would he choose to be? How low would he go? Even to live and die as a street-dweller of Calcutta. I am sure of it.

As I say, sometimes the Bible grabs you by the scruff of the neck.















Spiritual Battles

Paul and I have just returned from a little bit of a tour of the posher bits of Kolkata in search of coffee, which I have not had since leaving home on Monday. For a self confessed coffee addict that’s a long time without a cup of Joe. After a quality Latte, Paul then put his hand in his pocket again and it was KFC for brunch, a welcome change from curry and that set us up for the long walk back. On the way there all five of the chaps jumped into a cycle rickshaw just to experience the terror of riding in such a flimsy vehicle in Kolkata’s nightmare traffic. Honestly it wasn’t too bad although at times it did feel a bit like a scary fairground ride.

It is Good Friday today so not only is it a holy day for us Christians, but it is also Friday so a day for Muslim prayers. Our hotel is next door to “Mother Theresa House” the place where she lived and prayed with the nun’s of her order. A few doors down is a small mosque so walking back to our hotel we had to pass dozens of Muslim’s kneeling in the street, an overspill from the mosque. As we made our way past the back of this crowd the spiritual tension was almost electric and when we entered Mother Theresa’s House and sat silent before her tomb you could sense the spiritual warfare that was going on. I could see “the faithful” out of the window but could sense the immense power of the one true God resting in this place of peace, hope and love. I think both Paul and I were overawed by this simple yet deeply spiritual place, and the opportunity we had to go into the chapel and join the novice nun’s in prayer just added to the spiritual beauty of the time we spent there. It is a tremendous privilege to be on this trip, visiting Mother Theresa House has been an unexpected bonus.

Yes it is!!!

Today we had quite a hectic programme: we visited the remaining projects of the Good News Christian Education Mission (http://www.quartersforcalcutta.com/gncem.php) and I have to say what I saw overwhelmed me. In yesterday’s blog I responded to the question ‘is it any different to what I have experienced in Senegal’ and responded ‘No!’ I have to change my opinion as what I saw today was THE model of mission for youth and children and something I believe anyone involved in mission - that is anyone involved in the work of Christ - could and should learn from.

What makes it so different is that the project has evolved to support the needs of the entire spectrum of street children. So you start with babies at the day care centre, to which street mothers send their babies and toddlers to be washed, fed their clothes laundered and played with. You then go on to the local day schools like the one we visited yesterday, where they will be washed, fed, their clothes laundered and educated both in school smarts but also in the gospel. Alternatively - for children with only one parent - the child will go to a boarding school on the outskirts of the city where they will receive the best of care, the best of education, and the gospel up to the age of 16 and by this they will be given an amazing chance in life.

 

 

Hi

Today we got up early, to go to a  slum school. As there wasn't enough room in the jeep for the whole team me and a couple of others travelled in the bus taking the children to the school. They were joyful and pleased to see us and wanted us to get our cameras out to take pictures of them - Im not sure they have mirrors and so they were desperate to see their photo on the camera screen. Slum school run by BMS was very humbling experience. BMS provide them with washing facilities, food, and a uniform. They sang lots of children's Christian songs and interesting to hear The wise man built his house upn the rock to be sung in Bengali! This afternoon we had a chance to see a richer side to Kolkata at a shopping mall. This evening we have had chancve to reflect on last 48 hours. All finding a mixture of emotions - difficult to witness people washing in streets, wild dogs and cats, children being laid on pavements as their place of rest, people living and working on streets.

It has been very hot and humid. This evening though there has been a monsoon type thunderstorm. Tomorrow we go to another school, and will be leadinga drama, Buble reading etc.

Better go now. Bye for now and take care,

Sam

Is it really any different?

Today we visited a project for street kids and on reflection, the sites I saw and things we experienced were not much different to what I have experienced at the Talibe project in Senegal. Yes the language was different, the children were generally much younger and there were girls as well as boys, but the work that is done – looking after their basic needs such as washing, feeding and healthcare – all really all the same, even how they are fed.

If I look at the photo’s, with all the children trying to get in the picture and then scrambling to see themselves on the screen afterwards, it’s the same. If I think about the kids sitting as close as possible to me, or fighting to sit on my lap, then that’s the same.

I also had a sense of deja vu at our briefing with the heads of all the different projects on Tuesday afternoon. Strangely it wasn’t with Africa but of what we were trying to achieve here in the UK: outreach amongst the poor and underprivileged by establishing a presence where they live, establishing churches in new developments, open air processions and concerts at Easter, outreach on the streets. The one major difference between the work done over here is that there is a lot of cooperation across the denominations. The individual churches seem to work in concert with one another and by doing so give the impression of a united church. We often think we have a lot to teach the developing world, but in most things we need to learn to learn from each other.