India: An Exploration of Significance (Part 1)

by Tim Sweetman

I looked down into my tin cup, dented and scraped from years of use. I saw buffalo milk, white floating chunks, and water from the local well mixed together. It tasted sour, was gritty, and the chunks chewy.

I just turned to Tony, smiled, and said, “Welcome to India.” We smiled politely, grimaced, and proceeded to down the liquid. At least Tony did. The villagers were so excited about his “love” of this drink called “lassi” and made sure that his cup remained full. I just worked on explaining my stomach problems.

I was in India. On the Other Side of the World

I don’t know if I was ready for India. Fifteen hours on a flight was just the beginning of a journey that took me places that now seem like a dream. The first day I absolutely hated it. By the end of my two weeks I was sitting in the airport praying that I could return to this beautiful country as quickly as possible.

My friend Tony and I, along with our translator, were one of six teams who were getting up at around 6 a.m. each morning, heading out into the blistering heat, riding rickshaws, walking a little way, jumping on a crowded bus, then traveling a few kilometers to villages where we hoped and prayed that we would find the people of a particular un-reached people group — the Gadaria.

We didn’t know what to expect when we arrived at these people’s homes. We didn’t know how they might welcome us when we shared our stories of how Jesus Christ had transformed our lives and saved us from sin and death. But we endured the oppressive heat, sweat, persistent flies, and delightful drinks for the sake of the gospel.

The smells we encountered were like nothing I had before experienced. It was sweaty. I could literally taste the spices in the air. Everything reeked of sewage and pollution, food and people. The dust and the smells of the country infiltrated my lungs and refused to let go.

The flies were pervasive, swarming in numbers one could imagine found only in trash dumps or sewage systems. They were constant, thick, and never left us alone. The sewage streamed along the sides of streets we walked on, streets that were crowded with people, stray dogs, camels, bicycles, motorbikes, cows, beggars, buses, trucks, rickshaws, tractors, and more people.

They all stared at us, constantly asking our translator why we were there, why these white men had come to see their village, why we were riding buses and not taxis, and where we were from. If we stopped, a group would instantly form, just gawking at the two white, American college students who had come halfway around the world to visit them and share a story.

Eyes Full of Sin and Shame

In India, I shared a story I’ve told time and time again. However, for the first time I shared this story with men, women and children who had never heard of a man called “Jesus.”

It was shocking.

I looked into the eyes of men and women whose hearts were full of sin and shame — and they knew of no way to escape. They were trying so hard to worship the gods they knew, but none of that satisfied. They were all struggling financially — their children in rags, their homes rickety and filthy. Many marriages were broken or breaking. We prayed for men who beat their wives, children who ran away from their homes, and women who could have no children.

The thing is, though I’d never spent time with people in such difficult circumstances, I had seen the same longing in their eyes before.

I’ve seen those eyes in Washington, D.C. The same eyes I’ve seen in Chicago, Los Angeles, Birmingham, Nashville, Louisville, and every city I’ve ever visited. They were the same eyes of an atheist college student with whom I shared the gospel. They were the same eyes of many I’ve worked with. They were the same eyes of every sinner who is in desperate need of grace and forgiveness.

I had the answer that every one of those eyes were looking for.

The gospel.

The gospel never changes; the common predicament of everyman never changes. My heart and your heart are just as full of sin and blindness as the man I sat across from in a home in India. We all need a Savior. We are all broken.

From Success to Significance

So many people with whom I speak are struggling for success in their lives. They want their lives to mean something, so they go about doing what they can to be successful in the eyes of the world, their church, or their friends.

But it seems that no matter what they do, their longing for happiness is never satisfied. Even the poorest of the poor in India were struggling to find some sense of accomplishment. They saw me and wanted my “success.” The tragedy is that I’ve found even my “success” to be in no way satisfying.

Of course, I feel the same pull for success that everyone feels. The thing is, though, that Jesus Christ alone offers us the significance that we all long for and we all need.

He means for children, as soon as they know Christ as Lord and Savior, to be praying: “Jesus, I will go anywhere and do anything anytime you say. Just show me and help me. I want my life to count for you in the midst of all the spiritual and physical poverty of the world.”

He means for adults, in every vocation, to pray, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening. I am willing to stay in this job for your glory. And I am willing to be deployed in a totally new frontier for your glory. But whatever you do, Lord, don’t let me waste my life on insignificant pursuits. Don’t let me live for luxury while millions live without Christ and without hope. Let me accomplish the work that you gave me to do for your glory.” ~John Piper

When I chose to go on a short-term mission trip, I asked myself whether it was worth it to travel across the world to share the gospel. The answer: an emphatic “Yes!” What I found was significance in being wrapped up in the Lord’s glorious passion for sharing the gospel with the nations.

The All Surpassing Greatness

Each one of us struggles for significance in this life. We tend to measure success by the world’s standards, hoping to find meaning through what the world demands of us or even what our own Christian peers may say.

My life should not be about the success of some kind of ministry or work for God. My life should be about finding significance and joy in the greatness of Jesus Christ. It should be about losing myself in the story of the cross. The significance of my life should be found in the gospel. There is no reason to follow after “success” as many around me define it, because it’s just too elusive: I will never find it.

India was worth every smell, every bug bite, every fly, every minute of the repercussions of spicy food. India helped open my eyes to the desperation of every person who needs to hear the gospel.

Our culture’s definition of success had absolutely no relevance in the remote villages in India. The gospel, though, was relevant. The gospel alone had a lasting significance for the people I met.

As I swallowed that lassi, I swallowed my pride. The most significant thing I was able to offer to these people was not anything of myself, but was simply Christ, the Light of the world. Which reminds me of something Paul wrote in Philippians 2:14-15: “Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world.”

Visiting India made me freshly aware that the gospel alone has lasting significance for the world. As a result of that new-found awareness, I’m freshly driven to take part in the story of the kingdom of God wherever He places me, whether that’s a cubicle or the Congo.

With each passing day, I find increasing significance in the growth of His kingdom. May I find my success in His kingdom as well.

Copyright 2009 Tim Sweetman. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. This article was published on Boundless.org on November 13, 2009.

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India: Discovering True Joy (Part 2)

by Tim Sweetman

I found the spiritual battle in India to be at times dark and intense. This is the story of one of those times.

On the way to revisit a village, we found a large number of people heading the same direction we were going. After inquiring of a few men who were walking along the way, our translator explained to us that these people were all headed to the local tomb of a Hindu priest.

Long ago, this priest had himself buried alive to prove his spirituality and power — and now the people of this area go there each Monday to worship and pray in the hopes of being healed of sickness and disease and to be blessed by this dead man.

As we approached the site, we saw the huge tomb. It looked like all those ancient Hindu temples I see on the Discovery Channel: There was gray smoke in the air, a loudspeaker echoing a chant across the countryside and fields surrounding us, and thousands of colorfully dressed people thronging towards the temple. Our translator suggested that we stop along the way to pray for these people.

So we headed to the temple.

The road was crowded with buses, cars and people. It was odd seeing so many people out in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. But the people had come far and wide to buy from the hundreds of vendors, and to worship and pray at the tomb of this dead Hindu priest.

The closer we got, the thicker the crowds became. My heart was heavy as I walked past the vendors and closer to the site of this tomb where the people were crying out to be healed by a man who could do absolutely nothing for them.

Everyone in our group felt a burden for these people. I began to pray fervently as tears welled up in my eyes for these people. I prayed that God would open their hearts and eyes to the emptiness of their religion. I prayed that the message that we were about to share in the next village might come back and reach them. I prayed that someone might return someday to this place and that the gospel would be shared.

Nothing spectacular happened in that moment. The people continued to worship this man. The blindness continued. Yet we left with a sense that God would indeed do great things in this place, someday. We planted some seeds; someone would some day follow to water.

* * *

From there we continued on to the village we had originally intended to visit. Oddly enough — or perhaps, providentially — we shared the story from Scripture of the demon possessed man, a story that declares God’s power over evil spirits. We experienced an encouraging response from the village.

The villagers requested that we send more people to share the stories of Jesus and even suggested that we build a place to worship. They were so excited about the gospel and about the Son of the Most High God. They wanted to worship Him alone. They had found the One who had power over evil, the One who would forgive them of their sin and remove the sin and shame that was in their hearts.

It was at that moment that I knew what true joy was. I was experiencing just what it meant to be most satisfied when God is most glorified. I threw away any thought of the meaningless success that I chased after back in the States, and instead found significance in the spread of the gospel to these who had never heard it.

* * *

As I look back I realize that we were seeing God protecting us in some amazing ways. I never truly feared even though I knew in some ways that we were doing things that had gotten some of our translators mocked and beaten as they shared the gospel. I knew that Satan was not for our work among these people, and that we might even come across those who were demon-possessed. But when we actually came across these things, I realized that it wasn’t something completely new to me.

God worked in such a powerful way in my life, in the lives of our translators, and in the lives of the unreached people with whom we share the gospel. We reaped the harvest that so many had been praying for. We relied on the Spirit of God for everything.

When we awoke in the morning, many of us experienced the side effects of eating Indian food on a regular basis. Our stomachs just couldn’t take it, and many of us were quite sick. However, as soon as we gathered with our fellow team members and our translator and prayed over the coming hours, we had no further problems with our stomachs. Not once did we have to stop because of those issues. It was incredible. God worked in that relatively insignificant way to allow us to do significant things on behalf of His Kingdom.

It’s an incredible feeling when you’re walking in step with the Spirit, relying on Him for everything, from the small things to the great things. We needed help with our weak stomachs, and we needed major protection out on the field. Our translators, Christian believers themselves, had visited some of these villages before, and have been threatened, beaten, and seen co-workers killed for the faithful work in spreading the gospel.

When you hear stories directly out the mouths of men who have been beaten for the faith, you know you’re taking part in the most thrilling and satisfying work you could ever do.

I found it stunning that Paul tells the Philippians, directly after speaking of the church needing to “shine as lights in the world,” that there is a need to hold “fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. Even if I am poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. Likewise you should be glad and rejoice with me” (Phil. 2:16-18).

These men I met would give their all — and many had given their all — to the spread of the gospel.

* * *

Now as I sit here, remembering the faces of these men and women who had given their lives as an offering to God in incredible ways, I’m challenged. It’s not that I need to somehow “do better” in sharing my faith with others. I’m challenged because their hearts were so in tune with the Spirit, so full of passion for the gospel, and so enraptured by their Savior. They knew they must share this with the world even amidst the intense difficulties that surrounded them.

As I boarded the plane back to the United States, I knew my heart must change. As soon as I landed, I decided that each day as I wake, I must choose between allowing my heart to desire earthly success that fades … or to pursue a spiritual significance that will last for eternity.

Success or significance. What will my heart choose?

Copyright 2009 Tim Sweetman. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. This article was published on Boundless.org on November 19, 2009.