The Missionary

Who is a real missionary?

The Brave Step of Faith Miss. Jones had kind sparkling eyes and tied her hair severely in a tight bun. At a young age of 25, one night as she was deep in prayer, she heard very distinctly a Voice that said, “Go to India”. Miss Jones felt a sense of shock go through her, but then with that Voice came a peace. So Miss Jones was ready to come to India from America in the 1960s.

She told her church of that call and the mission board said, “We will sponsor you. Go if God calls you!” She was richly supplied and loaded by all friends and family! She said to her family and friends, “I have no idea how long I am going for, it would be as long as God keeps me in India.”

Miss Jones was a schoolteacher by profession and enjoyed teaching subjects creatively and expressively, reading stories to children and teaching them songs.

Marriage seemed a distinct prospect for her and Miss Jones was not particularly concerned about that as her soul was a burning flame set ablaze to do God’s will, and only found joy when she obeyed Him. In fact, many of the Americans wished she did not have to go because they lost a great person in their land, an amazing teacher, but no one dared to voice that, as they felt as if they were fighting God Himself if this was His will.

Finally as Miss Jones boarded a plane and all her friends and family came to say good bye. Miss Jones felt a lump in her throat and pain in her heart that she had to leave behind such dear people.

As she flew through the northern skies and saw the tiny world below, her heart was filled with exuberance. She knew she would make it in the far away land India as God was with her.

Miss Jones was going to a mountainous terrain in India called Darjeeling. Her heart was set on starting a tiny school for the local children.

She did not know a soul in India. She finally arrived in Darjeeling, in the little town area called Chowrastha and knowing no one, as she stepped out of her cab, she asked the “coolies” about a rented cottage. They did seem to pick up English words, which was excellent for Miss Jones.

Then suddenly, out of the blue, a big burly man appeared. He heard Miss Jones asking them about renting a house and he immediately came up and said, “Ma’am, there is a good guest house a little up the hill, calm and quiet and clean. You could stay there until you get the time to find a cottage to rent.”

Miss Jones was delighted, it sounded wonderful. The man looked kind and helpful and as the coolies helped to carry the baggage, the man, “Mr. Pema, it turned out lived close by with his little family of four. Miss Jones was grateful she would be having good neighbors.

The guesthouse was tastefully done with gleaming dark wood, cozy bedroom, drawing cum dining room, little kitchen and well-tiled bathroom, a hearth to light a fire with a chimney on the roof gave it a quaint charm and Miss Jones was happy. It was so close to home in some way. “Wherever God is, that makes it our home,” she reminded herself.

That night as Miss Jones tucked herself in bed, she used her electric blanket to warm herself as it was freezing cold that November night. She glanced out of the window and looked up to a dark but very clear sky studded with diamond stars, she said to God loudly, “I had no idea India could be so cold, or so wonderful”, and fell asleep within minutes.

Miss Jones eventually found a sweet little white cottage with a red roof, which she took on rent. She especially enjoyed her blazing fires on cold rainy days, having her coffee with hot buttered toast next to the little fireplace. She often lit coal fires in the fireplace, and the coal glowed through the night warming up the little cottage, though she remembered to open her windows, as coal fires can be toxic.

Over the next couple of years, Miss Jones had established a wonderful little wood and cement school on the slope of a green hill surrounded by fir trees. The wood was gleaming with varnish, and it had a sloping tin red roof with a chimney. Miss Jones had even got a fireplace made because she said that in the freezing cold winters she wanted the school to be warm. She especially would gather the children in that room as it would be deliciously warm as the children were poor, under clad and wore thin sweaters with holes.

Overtime, Miss Jones made sure all the children had warm blazers and thick woolen sweaters for the winter. The children loved coming to school. She had a few teachers besides herself and all subjects were taught. Miss Jones also taught the children songs, games, read storybooks to them and took them out for nature walks. The parents were happy with the school. In fact, the fame of the little school was spreading throughout the state and many offers were made for Miss Jones to start a school for the elite children of society, but Miss Jones refused.

She replied, “God clearly showed me to start for the poor children, and give them a new hope, a new joy and teach them of His great Love for them.” The children were happier, calmer and more creative than any other children in the town.

The years rolled by. Miss Jones went home once a year for her holidays, yet some years even skipped going home. “Home is where your heart is,” she said to a friend, “My heart is in India, with those children, so I am at home, though of course I dearly miss and love my family and friends.”

None of her friends in the United States really understood Miss Jones. They could not understand how she could be happy in India. “Doing the will of God brings great indescribable joy,” she explained to her people. They stared at her blankly when she would meet her during some of her visits to the United States. Miss Jones did not worry when they tried to tell her that perhaps it was time she moved back. She cheerfully ignored all the suggestions and advice to return, and said, “I will continue until my Maker tells me to come back to America.”

The Meeting Over time, in the 1990s, Miss Jones began to come across a new brand of missionaries who came to India, and unfortunately, over time, she discovered many “white” missionaries did not even like “natives” unlike the earlier days.

She wrote to her old friend in America “In the 1960s, our missionary parents from the US and Britain and New Zealand and Australia had their children in the same schools as Indians. Now, I am sad, they do not even want to be in the same schools. They want a separate school for themselves. It looks strange to me and not only that, if Indian missionary children are allowed in the school, the fees are so exorbitantly high. It is to discourage even Indian missionary children joining the school. They just don’t want their children to mix with the “natives” and learn their “bad habits” and are terribly afraid that the American children will get their flat Indian accent.” I also worry because the new missionaries try to reach people through their cultural practices which are dedicated to their own gods. I feel this is a soulish way of reaching them..as you know Spirit calls spirit..we can’t use these fleshly methods.”

Her friend read that letter, worried. It spoke of a new mood, a new age of Christianity. She wrote back “Wouldn’t it be wise my friend if you return back to America, things are just not the same as before, missions have changed.”

But Miss Jones would not hear of it.

In 2007, one warm summer in Darjeeling, an American missionary family, a husband and wife with two children, Dora and Ken, rented out a cottage not very far away from Miss Jones.

Miss Jones went over to give the new family a cake she had baked for them as a welcome gift. The American lady, Mrs. Lennon was delighted to meet another fellow American, “Ohhhh, sooo wonderful!” she cooed, “I was so afraid I would be alone. Now I have you as my neighbor. I couldn’t be happier!”

After that, Mrs. Lennon would often drop over to Miss Jones’ cottage and chat with her. She loved to talk and Miss Jones was a patient listener. Miss Jones found out they had come to India as missionaries as they were monitoring the funds that were given to certain Indian ministries by the Americans.

Miss Jones thought it was a strange way of being a missionary, monitoring funds and said so gently, “Surely dear, that is a strange way of mission work, I mean in my days backs in the 60s, all this was done be faith, we trusted those who were serving the Lord.”

“Oh no,” sad Mrs. Lennon grandly, “We also do find out the needs of the poor natives and fund those who really need it. You see, nowadays, a lot of people are whacking money. We can’t just keep handing out money to people who misuse it. We were giving money to an Indian missionary who kept sending us big bills for an orphanage, but when we arrived in India, we found out that he had built a palace for himself, and the orphanage was a tiny little place, pokey, dark and damp, an ugly depressing home for children. We also found out that he was asking money from several sources, both abroad and in India, for his orphanage. This is why we were sent to overseer the Indians who are being sent mission money to make sure they do not misuse it.”

“Perhaps a handful may be doing so,” agreed Miss Jones, “But I am sure not all must be like that. We cannot brand the apple tree rotten just because of a few rotten apples on it. I am sure, my dear, even in the US, we have our share of shams in the days of evangelists handing out big bins to collect money, and building palaces, buying swanky cars and private jets, always asking around for money so shamelessly on the TV shows.”

“Maybe,” said Mrs. Lennon shrugging her shoulders. She then went on to say, “You are brave to work with the poor-class Indians, I mean all that smell and stuff, not very hygienic. I prefer our kind of work, we work with a bit from a distance from them, but when you work close up with the local Indians, is it safe? They carry contagious diseases as well…I never let my children go near them.”

Miss Jones was silenced to shock. She was speechless for a while. “This, coming from a missionary who claimed to love Jesus!! After a minute of opening and closing her mouth, the usually gentle patient kind Miss Jones exploded, “Mrs. Lennon, just how can you say that? It shocks me; I mean you say you came as missionaries to India!”

Mrs. Lennon stiffened in anger and got up huffily. “If you want to get all rude with me, I think I should call it a day” she said sharply and got up to leave. She walked out of the house and Miss Jones watched her go. She felt sad, angry and defeated.

Over the next few months, Mrs. Lennon avoided Miss Jones.

Mrs. Lennon went out with wealthy Indian families, some owning tea gardens, others owing hotels and restaurants. They went swimming and even went semi mountaineering and camping at the foothills of the Kanchenjunga.

Mrs. Lennon and family were busy and happy. This was the grand life in India as Mrs. Lennon called it with all the holidaying and trips and travel and meeting up with the very rich and elite.

On the sidelines, they would go with the Indian missionaries and teach a song or a dance or tell a Bible story to the children, who listened politely, seemed excited about all the fun and tiny gifts, and went home highly entertained and happy with the missionaries. Then the Indian children would go home, go to their own temples and perform their pujas or Namaaz. Jesus was just another god along with many that they acknowledged for some of them, and for others, all this was high entertainment and fun time, nothing more.

Later, Mrs. Lennon wrote a missionary letter to the board that was sponsoring them. She said, “We are reaching out to the Indians, teaching them dance in their Indian style Bharatnatyam, but putting Christian words, so the children are enjoying it. We also found out that the previous Indian family who was running the orphanage are doing a pathetic job and the orphanage is in shambles. I request you to reduce the amount you are sending them, because they are out traveling a lot and a caretaker is left in charge. The children are badly neglected. I think it will be wonderful if you can send money for a little village school.” The missionary board sent around $200 for the poor village school on a monthly basis.

Miss Jones buried herself with the children’s work, and found her joy coming back.

One day, the Lord deeply prompted Miss Jones to see Mrs. Lennon, even though at the moment, she did not feel like it. So faithfully Miss Jones went to meet her and said, “I am sorry that things went wrong with us, perhaps you were overwhelmed with India and really do not have a capacity for it as I do, but I should not have shot my mouth like I did.”

Mrs. Lennon replied, “I was insensitive when I spoke to you about the people here in India, you took it especially hard because you care for the people, something wonderful which I could never do.” It was a hard confession from one missionary to another.

Secretly, in Mrs. Lennon’s heart, she had missed Miss Jones company. She was wise and kind. She also admired a lady who could live alone in a strange country and pour out her life for some poor children down the road that no one would ever really look at. Therefore, they did spend time together over the next couple of years.

Then one day, Mrs. Lennon announced they were leaving back to America. Miss Jones decided to host a farewell dinner in her cottage. After dinner, they sat out in the cool verandah that summer night, under a blanket of twinkling stars while fireflies flew around the cottage on the hills set near the forest, and they talked quietly, drinking coffee. Mrs. Lennon took Miss Jones’ address, both in India and in America. They left the next morning, catching a flight from Bagdogra airport to New Delhi, after which they would catch an international flight back to the US.

Miss Jones felt sad, but she was never lonely, but whenever she was exceptionally low, God sent her friends, gave her wonderful times, and sometimes refreshing short trips. Miss Jones also arranged for camping trips over India for the children. She had a great team of Indian teachers helping her. Her friends and even mission board people did start visiting her more often in Darjeeling, so her cup was abundantly full, even in midst of difficult times.

Miss Jones continued to stay in India saying, “God has not called me back to the US just yet.” The school suddenly had a spurt of God’s special blessings and it expanded and became a wonderful school for children in the hills. The costs were low for all children, yet free for the very poor, and many poor children who had a brilliant academic capacity were sponsored.

The Years Roll By Meantime, Mrs. Lennon and her family in America were busy. Her children enrolled in college soon and a few years later, got good jobs and then down the road got married.

Soon Mr. and Mrs. Lennon suffered the empty nest syndrome as their children were often busy and travelling. Over time, it became apparent that Mr. Lennon was declining in health and suffered from Alzheimers, so it was strongly recommended he stay at an assisted living facility as Mrs. Lennon too was weakening with debilitating arthritis.

Therefore, they both had to move to an assisted living facility. Life for them was strange there. There were a lot of elderly people who were very bitter and sad at being put there against their will. Some spent a lot of hours gossiping and running down others because they were so bored and did not know what to do. “An empty mind is the devil’s workshop.” For some, illness forced them to stay there. Some of them were just waiting to die and a sense of death and gloom hung them. Others actually felt capable and strong enough to live in their own homes, but as there was no one around to check on them, they were strongly advised by doctors or their own children to live in the living facility.

Mr. and Mrs. Lennon felt out of place there, remembering the grand days when they were in Darjeeling and walked up and down mountains, trekking, playing all kinds of games, mountaineering, and went on all kinds of exciting adventurous trips, and now because of their illnesses, they felt they were almost forced to stay at the living facility. Besides the beautiful garden settings and TV, there was not much to do; the older folks were far older than they were, in their 80s and 90s, and even 100s! Mr. and Mrs. Lennon just walked around, watched TV, talked to a few folks and really felt sad most of the time. Their own children seemed too busy to visit.

Early, one cold rainy morning, Mrs. Lennon got up and found Mr. Lennon sitting in front of the TV. She kept calling him and he did not answer, when she touched him, to her horror, she found he was cold and his skin ashen gray. He was dead! The pain that Mrs. Lennon went through was unbearable and she could not even weep.

They informed their children, one son was on a business trip in China, another daughter was in Russia on a project. They unfortunately could not come for the funeral, as they would miss the project or business deal, which was very important to them.

Broken-hearted, Mrs. Lennon attended his funeral, shivering in the cold rain with a few staff that attended, while a pastor prayed a little pray and then he was buried. The weeks dragged by and her children did come to see her, and Mrs. Lennon begged her children to take her out of the nursing home, but they gently told her that with her arthritic pains, she would find it difficult to move around and activities of daily living would be tough for her. Though Mrs. Lennon was only 60, she was not allowed to live alone. Her children were gentle but merciless and almost cruel that day.

The Special Touch That night as Mrs. Lennon went to bed, she suddenly remembered Miss Jones and wondered whether she was still in India. The next morning, she tried calling her from the living facility and eventually someone picked up the phone. She was a pleasant sounding girl who sounded Indian. Mrs. Lennon asked about Miss Jones. The girl told Mrs. Lennon gently, “Miss Jones had passed away the previous year, I am sorry to say, but she was happy and at peace and went well.”

Mrs. Lennon was sad. She asked the girl “Was she in India when she passed away?”

The girl replied, “Oh yes, she never wanted to go back, she was so happy. She had a helper to take care of her in her last year as she suddenly became very weak due to age, but she was happy and busy with writing journals and making material for teaching. We are the first children from her school. The minute we heard she was very unwell, some of us came to stay with her. She wanted us to sing some hymns and read the Bible for her. In fact, we all had the most beautiful evening with her and she was so happy. In the end, she gave a happy cry exclaiming, “Oh, I see beautiful angels, Jesus take me!” She was looking up beyond us, she clearly saw angels and she gave a lovely smile and passed away. It was the most victorious death. We all know she is in Heaven with Jesus, she called His name with so much joy. For her funeral, nearly the whole town came, she was so loved.”

Mrs. Lennon listened and wiped away her tears, her heart was suddenly soaring with happiness when she heard this. She heard victory in death. Mrs. Lennon repeated to herself, “Victory in death can only happen when we know Jesus!” It was like a flash illumination to her and she thanked the girl, asking her name. Her name was Lydia.

“Thank you Lydia for telling me all this, you gave me joy in my sorrow, to know she is gone is sad, but to know she is with Christ is joy!”

This was perhaps the most spiritual thing Mrs. Lennon had ever said. She went back to her room and got on her knees beside her bed for the first time in many, many years prayed to God, asking for forgiveness for the years of living in disconnection with Christ. She earnestly asked God to give her a fresh start. She felt a warm touch her body and soul, and experienced joy, which she never had before. Mrs. Lennon got up, she got a pleasant surprise, her knee joints did not pain and she cried out, “It’s gone! it’s gone!” Her arthritic pains had gone!

The Great Change Over the next few weeks, Mrs. Lennon immersed herself in prayer and reading the Bible. She was calm and peaceful to those around her, and some of older people in the assisted living facility started to talk more to her. Mrs. Lennon started sharing with them wonderful things she was learning in the Bible. It came to a place where Mrs. Lennon started holding a Bible study every evening with many of the elderly people in the extra lounge. They started with prayer, singing and then studied the Bible. Most of the senior citizens had never even touched a Bible in their lives.

The staff in the living facility was amazed. They began to see changes in those people, except for a few who did not want God or anything religious in their lives and others who professed a different faith. Mrs. Lennon for one was healed of her arthritis and many other old people stopped complaining of their ailments. It seemed the Spirit of God was moving through that living facility in a supernatural way. Healings also took place. God honored Mrs. Lennon’s prayer and taught her it was never too late.

Over time, her children started to feel uncomfortable that they had left their mother in the living facility against her will. They started to remember her more and made efforts to meet her. They talked about it among themselves and Dora, her daughter came one day and spoke to her mother saying, “Mom, I have come to take you home, come home and stay with me and my family, they are happy to have you, I have an extra room.” Dora had no idea what was happening in her mother’s life or that she had been healed of her crippling arthritis.

Mrs. Lennon looked at Dora and said, “My dear, I have decided I have found a home here, I am happy and well settled, because I discovered when we have God with us, we can be happy anywhere, even if we are alone!”

Dora stared at her mother thinking her mother had gone a bit mad. She told her husband later, “Perhaps the medications were working on her, making her in this mellow state.”

However, over time as both Dora and Ken went to meet their mother, she found her peaceful and cheerful.

One day, she told them clearly and strongly, to get back to Christ, to find their lives in Him. “Do not make the mistakes I made children,” she told them strongly, “I found out that we need Christ in our lives for spiritual strength and it is wonderful how He can fill you with joy when you obey Him. I am sorry that I did not teach you that way all the years we were missionaries in India. Pleasure and luxuries and wealth will all go away one day, but if you get Christ in your life, He will give you a new life, and not only that, there is wonderful Life awaiting you in Heaven. Don’t ignore what I say before it is too late!”

When her children found out she was healed of arthritis and also was holding a Bible study for some of the old folks, they were in awe. They never saw their mother with so much spiritual authority. They visited her often with the grandchildren, who grew to love her. Her children eventually surrendered their lives to Christ. They kept asking their mother to stay with them.

She did finally agree, and stayed in Dora’s house. She told Jean, another beautiful-hearted lady in the facility to continue with the prayers, worship and Bible studies in the evenings and made visits to the living facility some weekends to “encourage the old fogies!” as she said.

That year, all the Lennon family discovered that when we walk with Christ, great wonders occur and life is full of surprises. Mrs. Lennon became a missionary with the people around her wherever she was, her neighbors and people she knew and in the living facility. She finally understand what it meant to follow Christ and be a missionary with a mission to bring people the wonderful delivering Gospel in their lives. And it was never too late. Funny thing is, she learned to be a great missionary in her own land right where she was, and she did not have to travel far!

A true missionary is occupied with the caller, (Jesus Christ) and not the call (the mission field). Many times, people step out on the waters on a wrong foot because they became occupied with the superficial and take their eyes off the Lord. To be occupied with the caller and not the call is the secret and then everything will fall into place. If not, one will end up doing more damage to themselves and others.

Rita F. Kurian