Mission Report

Standing on

Editor’s Note: Thanks to It Is Written supporters, over 50 churches were reopened in India last year and staffed with dedicated and trained Bible workers. Josephine shares the following story from one of the reopened churches.To support this important project, please select Missions when you give to It Is Written.

Kicking off her dusty shoes, a sari-clad white lady steps into the quiet interior of a church that stands at the heart of a bustling Indian village, right where the unpaved road divides. The cool cement floor drains the day’s warmth from her tired feet. On her way here, she passed the Lake of Shining Waters where large acacia trees look down at their own shadows. Nesting Indian cranes search for lunch along its banks, their long stiltlegs rippling the glossy reflection with each step. This lake is seasonal. Five months ago, these same acacias stood in the burning heat of the then dry, rocky riverbed. Only red-coat goats and their lungi-clad herders braved the blazing heat of those June days. Now transformed, the engorged Lake of Shining Waters shares refreshment with fields of quivering rice. Tiny fingers slip quietly into the lady’s hand. That gesture interrupts her gaze on the crucified Christ brightly painted on the sanctuary’s front wall. She looks down and finds a small group of children assembling. Their laughter and smiles disarm the small measure of fear that entered the church with her. Back when the June sun blazed and few ventured far, she had come to this dead church determined to resurrect it. But within moments of arriving, a brow-furrowed mason appeared and began to shout. Though at first she didn’t understand his words, body language clearly stated JOSEPHINE BIEGLER is the It Is Written India Mission his mounting rage. Other masons who worked Coordinator. She and her nearby slipped into the church, slowly surroundhusband live in the Northwest ing her. Their words began to crescendo into with their three children. angry demands that she repay the theft by the Bible worker previously assigned to the church.

Her friends and translator moved closer too, defending her. The ringleader had a speedy comeback to every response. Reasoning with the mob seemed pointless. A drunkard leaped closer. There was no doubt he intended to beat her if she did not comply. She wasn’t enveloped by fear, instead, only a deep sadness for how Christ’s name She couldn't help it: was shamed by the crooked dealings of the ex-Bible worker. When she asked to speak, by now, tears flowed.the men hushed. Pointing at the painting of the suffering Savior, she entreated them to understand that God was shamed, His name blasphemed by the actions of the ex-Bible worker. Christ knew the betrayal they experienced because He too had been mistreated. She couldn’t help it: by now, tears flowed.

Shocked by her boldness in addressing them and having never seen a white lady cry, the ringleader bent and touched her feet in apology. “Please go now,” he said. He knew the mob was still determined to exact revenge, but he opened the car door and made sure she was safely tucked in.

Then, turning to her friends, he stated emphatically, “It is useless to send any Bible workers to this church. We will never come. We also will not allow our children to come.”

“Whether or not you come,” the tearful lady’s translator spoke gently, “every day our new Bible worker will come to this church and pray for this village.”

Given that history, is it any wonder fear accompanied her to this church? But today the atmosphere is different. The tiny hand slips out of hers as the bright-eyed child skips off to play. Looking around, the lady smiles at the growing crowd of adults. The head of the village stands regal next to the Bible worker. His approval is unmistakable. June’s ringleader smiles from the edge of the curious crowd.

Wiggling children press around the lady when she invites them to join her in speaking with the God of the universe who possesses the power needed to change lives. The ex-ringleader and village leader press in as well. Forgotten are their words of warning: “We will never come, and we will not allow our children to come either.”

After benedictions are made and “wandenalu” (thank you) whispered, the village leader and ex-ringleader follow the lady to the church’s front door. The lady lingers longer. It is difficult to leave a place where God has worked miracles. She hates to slip on those dusty shoes and walk away, for in those few moments she feels as though they have all been standing on holy ground.