A Little Story on World Mission Sunday

About a month ago, my fiance, my parents and my ten year old niece went on a little mini-vacation to the hills, a couple of hours out of the big city. We often retreat there, but not typically in the monsoons. It was cold and rainy, and we stayed indoors most of the time, but it was still a special time (is every shared holiday special when you're in love?) apart from my niece sticking to us like a leech because she had been secretly enlisted as a chaperone by my mum and my other niece, and she took her responsibility VERY seriously.

One day we went out for a meal to the town. Joel and I remembered some yummy bhakri (a kind of local bread) and chicken curry from our trip in January, so we took my parents and niece out to share our experience. We found a restaurant willing to make us hot, fresh bhakris, perfect for a rainy day.

As we waited for our meal, my mother suggested that we each share a story of some time in our life that we experienced God's presence or miracles. Typical of  my mum, finding a way to bring Jesus into a conversation. We were all happy to share, though I had to search my memory for a story I hadn't shared with them before. (I am a notorious chatterbox and sharer in my family, they've never had to complain they don't know what's going on in my life. Lucky them.)

I told a story from my time in the Philippines, Joel shared his own conversion story from medical college, and even my ten year old niece shared a little story from her own life. My parents shared too, and then the waiter, a young man with a simple, honest face, brought out our steaming and delicious-smelling meal. We made the sign of the Cross, blessed the food, and began our meal. It was as tasty as we had hoped.

As we ended our meal, and walked out of the restaurant,  we thanked the waiter. To our utter surprise, he smiled and said, "Praise the Lord." We smiled back and headed out to the car. "I guess he is a Christian!" The reason why we were so surprised is because Christians are a small minority in India, and in our city, usually a very specific socio-economic group - educated, English-speakers, often from Goa and Mumbai. This young man was obviously a local Marathi-speaker. We were surprised and curious.

A couple of days later, Joel and I returned to the restaurant, partly for the bhakri and chicken curry, and partly to talk to the young man. He seemed happy to see us, and after the meal, Joel, who is a native Marathi-speaker himself, had a long conversation with the young man.

It turned out he had come to faith through another relative who had become a Christian, and was obviously very committed to Jesus. He said he woke up every morning and read the bible for two hours before coming to work and working all day until late in the night. He didn't have a day off at his job, and so he hadn't found a church to go to, but he used to attend a church in his hometown.

"How did you know we were Christians?" we asked him. "I understand a lot of English, even though I can't speak it, and I heard you all talking about Jesus," he replied in Marathi. We hadn't even realized he was there when we were sharing, much less that he could understand us.

"Is your bible a Marathi bible?" I nudged Joel to ask him.

"No, it's Hindi."

"Would you like a Marathi one?"

He said he would, so we took down his name and number, and told him we would find one to send him later. After we said goodbye, I suddenly remembered that a friend had told me he was sending me two Marathi bibles to use in my ministry, except that I had no idea what to do with them. I guess God knew what I could do with them.

It was such a short and simple encounter, but it blessed me so much. Today is World Mission Sunday, and in his message, Pope Francis wrote:

'This missionary mandate touches us personally: I am a mission, always; you are a mission, always; every baptized man and woman is a mission. People in love never stand still: they are drawn out of themselves; they are attracted and attract others in turn; they give themselves to others and build relationships that are life-giving. As far as God’s love is concerned, no one is useless or insignificant.'

I was reminded of the need to notice and connect with the people around me, something that it's easy for introverts to forget to do. Even though talking to strangers may not be something I do as easily as others, God can still use me if I allow Him to.

'This divine life is not a product for sale – we do not practise proselytism – but a treasure to be given, communicated and proclaimed: that is the meaning of mission. We received this gift freely and we share it freely (cf. Mt 10:8), without excluding anyone. God wills that all people be saved by coming to know the truth and experiencing his mercy through the ministry of the Church, the universal sacrament of salvation.'

I was reminded that God does not exclude anyone, and that neither should I. Jesus didn't come only for people who look like me, or talk like me, or who speak only the same language as I do. His love goes beyond the walls and boundaries I build in my own mind. As I have experienced freedom and mercy through my relationship with Him, so too have others from different cultures and socioeconomic backgrounds. As I need His grace for my bad days and difficult relationships and sinful inclinations, so do they.

It's not always easy to know how to practically share BOTH the truth and the mercy of Jesus in a sensitive but effective way. But that doesn't mean it's not possible. I think it starts with an awareness of my own privilege (my treasure!), an openness to encounter, a desire to see people become who they were meant to be, and a sincere invitation to the Holy Spirit to guide me and use me every day. The harvest is plentiful, willing laborers are few. Come. Holy Spirit!

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