Finding the Sons of Thunder, a Proverbs 31 Woman, and a Zebedee: Surveying India PART TWO
“Complicated. Conservative. Cautious. Community-oriented.” That’s how seasoned cross-cultural workers in another city described this city of 300,000 we surveyed in India—which equals the size of a small village in populous India.
The wise advice continued, “You’ll need a wide-open door of invitation here in this fish-bowl community where everybody knows everybody. Don’t push. Look for a pull.”
One thing weighed heavy on our hearts as a small group of us prepared to survey the place in person and look for the pull: How can there still be a place on earth—in fact, an entire district of three million souls, half and half Hindu and Muslim—with only 0.1% true followers of Jesus—and zero cross-cultural workers from any country?
God indeed led us to that pull, in the form of a Proverbs 31 woman, her sons—two charismatic brothers we called the Sons of Thunder, James and John—and her husband, who we named Zebedee.
A family of peace, of influence, who welcomed us.
Here’s how it happened, in a series of events that felt like the Israelites following the cloud by day and fire by night as they searched for the Promised Land.
This is also a story of how to do a survey trip into an unreached, unengaged city in India—and what God can do when we simply GO somewhere with great intentionality and put Kingdom feet on the ground, even for a few days.
The first day of the survey trip, seven of us landed in the city from different directions at 8 am. One group arrived from an overnight car trip in another northern Indian city, with a half-drunken driver booked at the last minute from a train booking gone wrong. It took twelve hours instead of six. Myself and a young university film student pulled into one of only three hotels we could book online after landing in Delhi at 2am from a 28-hour plane trip through Qatar, and hiring a driver to take us straight to the city.
Our two groups met in the lobby, disheveled, exhausted, but eager to explore the city and living on the adrenaline of an impending adventure.
“Let’s go!” we clamored over our breakfast of dahl, chapatis, and fruit.
“No. Let’s pray first,” said one wise person. The rest of us reigned in our impetuous adventurous ferver and agreed.
We gathered in a hot, empty conference room, until we noticed security cameras in the room.
Everyone would be watching and wondering about everything this group of “white people” did, and perhaps misunderstanding us. So, we moved to one of our rooms, sitting on the floor, couch, and the corners of the bed, pausing to ask God about our plans.
“Open our eyes to see what you’re already doing here, God. Lead us to the people you want us to meet,” we prayed. Then we asked, “What kind of person might pull us to this city? Who should we look for?”
We paused to listen to the Holy Spirit. To let him speak.
I sensed God telling us to look for a Proverbs 31 woman who might make it possible for two western families—entrepreneurs, a nurse, two teachers, and an Indian student—to move there and live there. I had never specifically looked for a woman before as a person of peace, and especially not in a conversative, majority Muslim city.
Others sensed that God would make it obvious, and to start out going to a local, somewhat famous historical site, since that’s what most tourists might do. Besides, the oldest version of the Holy Book for Muslims called the Qu’ran was (allegedly) housed there, and we wanted to see it.
At the historical site, we met people and asked questions, trying to find out about the city.
“Have you seen any foreigners here before?” We asked several people we met.
“Oh yes, many. One time a few years ago, a traveler from Sweden passed through,” said a tour guide at an historical site. “And last year, a German!”
People we met seemed to regard Americans traveling through the backroads from one major city to another, with curious but cautious interest.
A few of our men talked to several imam scholars who were Islamic spiritual leaders. One called later that evening, following up with a warm welcome and a desire for genuine friendship. But he lived in another part of the state.
The women in our group made friends in the market with two kind, young, educated sisters who spoke English, as we stopped in a chai shop for snacks. They offered to help us to find more ethnic clothing, since several of us only had one Indian outfit to wear. They also invited us to their home.
But trust quickly given is easily lost.
We made two mistakes. First, we didn’t go straight to their home when invited, but stopped at a store for the clothes first. We wasted valuable time and darkness came too quickly to visit their home.
Second, when we pulled out a camera to take some video in the crowded market, looking like media journalists, the women fled. I’ll never forget the look of fear on their faces as they slipped out of the store and disappeared in the crowd, never to return.
I know better than to pull out a camera in a crowded area. But my desire for the task (great photos and video) overrode my commitment to honor the culture and relationship.
I learned a long time ago that I’m going to make mistakes. Especially if I try new things, and do things like survey trips with no on-the-ground contacts, in a place I’ve never been, trying to meet people I don’t know. I’m going to make mistakes. So, I asked God for forgiveness and he released me from feeling guilty. Later that evening in my room, as I felt the ache of regret in my gut, I also forgave myself.
But I’ll also learn from those mistakes, and try not to repeat them. That’s how the mistakes become valuable and redeemable.
Therefore, when we met the first Son of Thunder, who we’ll call John, we did something different.
The next day, the other two women and I had decided to tour clinics and hospitals, to see how our nurse might be able to use medicine to bless the community long-term. At the second hospital—more of an Urgent Care—we walked into the lobby and said, “Does anyone speak English?”
A ripple of asking went through the lobby, into the hallways, and through each of the patients rooms.
A young, charismatic, outgoing man in his mid-twenties dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, came up to us, “I speak English.” He told us he worked for a well known computer company in the USA as a consultant, but from his house in India.
“I saw you wandering around in the street outside in the middle of the heat of the day, and I wondered if you were lost. There isn’t even a shadow!” He marveled at the audacity of these foreign women to be out in 112 degree temperatures. “Can I help you?”
We laughed and introduced ourselves, as sweat dripped down our necks from the intense heat.
We explained, “We’re from America. We’re thinking about moving our families here. She is a nurse. So, we wanted to get a tour here to see what medical facilities look like here.”
He showed us around the one hallway, with several rooms until we came to the room with his ill niece, and his mother and aunt. That’s when his mother asked us questions, while her son translated, talking with us and smiling. She even adjusted our head coverings, plopped unceremoniously atop our sweaty heads, pulling some pins from hers to hold it fast. We covered our heads to honor the culture in this all-Muslim area where every woman covered their heads, but we weren’t very good at it.
She gestured to her son, “Invite them to our home!”
This time, we didn’t stop for anything else along the way. And we cautiously asked first if we could video to show others what it might look like to live in this city, to which John happily agreed.
Half an hour later, we found ourselves walking along a path into a subdivision of beautiful two and three-story homes, ushered into their family room.
We talked, ate snacks and drank juice, met the children in the family, exchanged stories, and laughed for several hours. Our new friend's mother showed us her sewing business and her son told us about her projects helping underprivileged women find jobs. When we found out she taught the Qu’ran and also guarded the reputations of her somewhat errant sons, and could also guard our reputation in a suspicious city, we knew we found her—our Proverbs 31 Woman!
Over the next few days, we said yes to every opportunity to be with this family. We ate together at a local restaurant and toured an abandoned palace together (learning much about the history of the city). Our entrepreneur met the other entrepreneurial brother, who happened to be in the same line of business as our business guy. He even showed the men a plot of land the brothers planned to buy, inviting them to buy a plot next to theirs.
We all spent the evening in their home again, to meet the father, a well-respected physician and long-time leader in the community. He brought respect to this family, like the husband of the woman in Proverbs 31 who sat at the city gates.
While most of us were laughing and learning with the brothers, the Indian student traveling with us circled around to sit beside the father. He spent two hours learning his story, honoring him. He also shared his own story of faith in Jesus combining it with the story of the Samaritan Woman at the Well story in John 4. They parted that evening as friends, telling each other they would study each others Holy Books together later.
Our last day in the city, our nurse and film student fell violently ill with what we call “Delhi Belly”, a sure fate to befall most foreigners visiting India. The brothers heard about it (remember, everyone knows everything that happens in this small city, especially to unusual westerners passing through) and came to check on us, where our women lay on hospital beds getting IV hydration at a clinic we had previously visited.
No Hippa laws here! An American for a patient is big news.
I showed the brothers the Proverbs 31 passage, asking them to tell their mother how much I admired her. As we read the passage together on my phone, they kept nodding, “Oh yes! This describes her perfectly!” They asked to take a photo of the scripture to show their mother later.
When we decided to stay an extra day, the brothers invited our men to a pre-wedding reception, where the Sons of Thunder and Zebedee introduced them to everyone they knew—leading members of the community, other business people, friends, even politicians. And they ate a lot of great food!
We felt known, welcomed, liked, and warmly invited into their family and community.
As we left the following day, both brothers showed up to say goodbye, wishing us well, with a strong invitation to come and live in this city as their friends and business colleagues.
What joy to write that this story isn't over. This is just the beginning.
Kingdom citizens are going to move to this part of the world, learn the language and culture, live and love like Jesus, partnering with what God is already doing in this strategic city—with a warm welcome by this family of peace.
(Bonus clip: Getting a haircut at a local barbershop, trying to make friends!)