|
|
You are here :
Home / Resources / Current News Stories / Evangelism in Orissa
Veteran mission leader tells of days of primitive missionary outreach
April 2, 2009
by John M. Lindner, D.Miss.
P.G. Vargis came to Christ while serving in the Indian Army in Kashmir in 1971. He immediately began evangelizing and planting churches and soon resigned his commission to serve the Lord full time. He then began the Kashmir Evangelical Team which soon expanded beyond the state and became the Indian Evangelical Team. In recent years it has extended its outreach beyond its country’s borders so as to become known as Global Evangelical Team. Vargis was never a mission director who ruled from an office, but one who served with his fellow missionaries on the field by example. Here he recounts a month he spent evangelizing villages in Orissa State in 1982, the same state that suffered such terrible violence in 2008.
My first visit to a village in Orissa
 I always cherished--and still do--our two months of evangelism exploration in Orissa in 1982 with my wife Lilly and our four kids, all from 2 to 10 years of age. To get there from Punjab we first traveled by train for two days, then by bus for 12 hours, and finally 22 km. (15 miles) by oxcart, which itself took more than 7 hours. We lived there for 6 weeks in a small grass hut with no windows or doors that we constructed for 50 rupees ($4). Recent photo shows P.G. Vargis with his wife, Lilly. (IET Photo)
The customs of these sin-sick people are shocking. Their poverty is an open ulcer, and their spiritual darkness blacker than in any other part of India. We saw the spiritists eating fire and watched them beat themselves with chains and dance on long spikes. They approach the wizard for all their needs--making offerings of pigeons, cocks and ram’s blood.
Every girl and boy who reaches their 15th birthday is freed from the family to go and live in communal rooms, where they may select their mate by trying out one another. I wept much over this cruelty, which even they did not understand.
One day we needed to get some things in the market--an open flea market in a nearby village. Not only that, eager to look out for the needy and hurting whenever and wherever we could, the weekly market was the best place to find such, in addition to doing our shopping. So I gathered my family, and we walked to the market.
 These Orissa tribals are somewhat better dressed than the ones P.G. Vargis saw in 1982. (IET photo courtesy of Christian Aid)
The market was held under the shade of the trees of a forest. The sights, sounds, and smells overwhelmed our senses. Men in loin cloths, women in half-saris, children with barely anything on them jostled one another and us on every side. Men carrying bows and arrows were trying to sell their game or harvest. Women, half naked, sat on the ground with vegetables, earthen pots and even round, pale white ant eggs for sale. Sheep, goats, and various animals wandered aimlessly among the crowd, their bleating cries adding to the cacophony.
Clambering onto a large rock, I looked around to get my bearings. As I looked out over the teeming throng weaving around one another like ants, something caught my heart. I called to my wife and pulled her up beside me.
"Lilly, how many people do you see?" I asked.
"Who can count them all?" she answered rhetorically.
"Lilly," I pressed, "How many people are wearing anything on top?"
"I see only three," she responded.
I silently wept bitter tears as the magnitude of such poverty overwhelmed me. The vast majority of the people scurrying around conducted all of their social and business activities in nothing more than a loincloth. How could we empower such a large number?
Picture in my heart
 As I surveyed the river of people below me, I spotted a tribal young woman, maybe twenty years old, sitting with a basket between her legs so that no one could snatch it. Her eyes were glazed over as if she were looking but not seeing.
This young tribal woman, not the same as the one mentioned in the story, sells ant eggs, considered a delicacy in Orissa. (IET Photo courtesy of Christian Aid)
Moved with compassion, I pointed out the girl to Lilly. Then I slid from the rock and turned to help Lilly down, explaining, "I want to take a picture of her."
As I made my way over to where the poor girl was sitting, it became increasingly clear that she had been horribly abused. There was no life in her eyes, just a dull, vacant stare. I could tell that she wasn't married because she didn't wear a nose ring, the sign of a married woman. Her demeanor made it obvious that she had been abused by many men. My local friends, who lived with me, confirmed it.
As an Indian, I also knew that she did not give her body to them for her own pleasure, but for money—yet not for herself, but for a younger brother or sister or perhaps for a sick mother.
Deeply touched by her haunting stare, I silently wondered, How many more are there like her? How many millions are dying without help, without hope, without hearing the gospel? How long must they wait?
As I turned and walked away, I was overwhelmed with a deep burden and awareness of the great need for someone to help these precious people and their children be strong--obtain education, health care, sustainable farming technology, and, above all, be valued. How many others who simply existed from day to day, with no hope?
"Did you get a picture?" Lilly asked when I returned.
As I choked back my tears, I said, "Yes, I got the picture--but not with the camera. Her picture is in my heart."
Labor of love
I had two brothers from the area help me--D.N. Sahu and Das Bhai. Every evening we three brothers were in some nearby village preaching the gospel, but in the daytime Lilly and the children would join us in walking through a village market, witnessing as we went. One person always stayed in our home to guard our few belongings. For six weeks we had no milk for the children, and for two of those weeks the well was dry from the drought and we had to drink from the river.
We spent the next two weeks in another tribal village staying with the ‘richest man’ of that village. Using three bamboos, he graciously partitioned off a corner of his cattle shed for us, and tied his two bulls outside.
It was a horrible experience for us to sleep with the cows, bulls, and calves around us, with chickens on the roof, and millions of mosquitoes. The animals were gracious enough to sprinkle us with cow dung and urine during the night. But we ignored the humiliation, since we were penetrating the area with the gospel.
I preached two to five times daily. My sermons were short--just 15 minutes. But these simple people understood. They understood a leper coming to Jesus, praying to Jesus, worshiping Jesus, receiving healing from Jesus, and becoming a disciple of Jesus.
And the Lord worked miracles among them. I thought perhaps He loved them more than others. On some days, 97% of the people who came for healing were touched by God. For the first time in my life I saw two totally blind people healed on the same day.
Yet after two months we returned home thinking we had achieved nothing. No one made any serious decision to follow Christ and no one was baptized. But we all were invigorated with the enriching experiences.
Revisiting the village
 In early 2000, I was back preaching in a city in that area. Sahu, now our mission leader in that region, took me by Jeep to open and dedicate a newly built church in a village. I stood in front of the church building. Poor villagers started to pour in and sit on the mud floor. The white washed mud wall of the 20 by 40 foot hall looked majestic in the poverty-stricken area. I well knew that the building would fall in three to seven years from the heavy rains and would have to be rebuilt again. But we didn’t worry about that then; this was a time of rejoicing. This IET church is a typical village church, but is not necessarily the one mentioned in the story. (IET photo)
Sahu came and asked me whether I recognized the village and the zigzag mud path we had come up to get there. “Should I?” I asked.
Then he said, “We traveled this path in 1982. I walked with you and Aby (my son). Aunty Lilly and the kids were in the bullock cart. We stopped in this village to have a cup of black tea.”
His eyes shined as he continued, “On that day we stopped in seven places to have a cup of black tea or a glass of water from a house when we were thirsty. Wherever we stopped for a drink, today there is a church building and a strong assembly. Whichever house that gave us a glass of water now has a Christian preacher – a woman or a man.”
Do you know the pain of joy that swelled in my heart?
The “rich man” who gave his cattle shed for us to stay in was baptized along with his whole family within a few years and two of their boys now are in full-time ministry – one is a junior leader.
What a joy! In 1981 we had only on worker--Bro. Sahu. Today we have at least 900 churches throughout Orissa State. Multiplied blessings!
Let’s do it again!
How I wish I could do that missionary journey thousands of times. Yet in a sense I did it again and again--in Orissa, Marathwada, Punjab, Bastar, and other places. Now sitting in that chapel I made a covenant with God that I will do it again almost every year--making a missionary trip just like Paul did, through some remote area looking for hidden people and preaching to the unreached, as well as visiting the churches we planted in our previous mission trips.
Our children are now grown and so Lilly and I can travel together.
I told God I want to cancel some of my meetings and seminars this November and go to Orissa for 20 days. I will select a village and rent a one-room hut. Making that as our hub, we will visit the area within a radius of 20 km. (12 mi.) and preach for three nights in each village. We will work hard to evangelize that area. I know God will honor those efforts. Please remember us in prayer.
A million pictures like this are burned in P.G. Vargis’ heart. That’s why at 67 he wants to go again to the remote places and preach the gospel. He welcomes all who will help send him. To learn more about what drives his heart, order his new book, Compelled, available from Global Evangelical Team www.getmissions.org. For more information about the Indian Evangelical Team see www.ietmissions.org.
|
|
|
