My Legacy in India Missions

Trudy (Williams) Nelson in Hyderabad, India with conference attendees and their children. 

I've written before about my connection with India and missions. My grandmother was a Christian missionary there from 1907-1943, and my mom and aunt were born there. In recent years my eldest daughter, Trudy, has returned numerous times on short term mission efforts. Two weeks ago she led a group of five other women there to teach, pray, and encourage hundreds of Dalit women who are Christian leaders in their own villages. She brought back picture and movies and posted them HERE ON SHUTTERFLY. We're very proud of her. She has my drive and my wife's compassion. A great combination. She's wearing a red and gold sari I bought her mother when I visited India in 1981.

The Kingdom of Christ - Contemplation

Here is my reflection on The Kingdom of Christ.... it's a repetition.

God, I beg you for your grace that all my thoughts and actions be directed toward the advancement of your Kingdom. I offer up all my time, money, service, suffering, spirit to the advancement of Christianity both here and there with you.... In so doing I ask that I will act against sensuality and carnality and worldly love of things.

So, here I am in the Lord's presence as I work at my various tasks throughout the day. He labors immediately beside me. I can reach out and touch Him, or look at what he is doing (as if on his desktop)... a co-worker. We are in a large tiled and marble columned round room like a rotunda. Around the perimeter are many Biblical and other unknown saints standing behind the great ancestors of mine, who stand in front of the heavenly throng. I can look around at the crowd of witnesses watching me and the Lord, and in the front row are John Williams (missionary to the South Seas, martyred), Jeremiah Williams (circuit rider preacher to the land of Lincoln and Ohio in the late 1800s), Emily Williams (Jeremiah's wife of 7), Benjamin and Ruth Williams (my parents and active Evangelicals), Hope and Burton Winke (my Aunt and Uncle -- Hope and Ruth helped their mother found dozens of Christian Churches in central India during the early 20th century), Edith & Ross Willobee and their deceased child David (my mother and aunt's missionary parents to India 1907 ff - Ross and David are buried in India), Uncle Smith (the black missionary from Trinidad who immigrated to India was died there as an old preacher who taught me at his knee and shoulder to sing "Rolled Away, All my Sins are Rolled Away" in Hindi). And over the shoulders of these blood relatives are the saints of old, resting their hands on my ancestor's shoulders —altogether watching my every move. ..... My breath and voice of my many murmuring prayers are at the vertex or foci of the rotunda and my audience can hear everything I whisper like those acoustic museum displays. Indeed I am living in Hebrews 12:1.

Then, I notice that the saints (mine and the Biblical ones) are standing, if not hovering, over beautiful polished marble of various colors... and beneath me is compacted dirt. Over the saints is a tall and ornate roof to protect them, and over me the roof is missing, exposing my efforts to sun and wind, rain, and fog, hot and cold. Sometimes my flooring is mud, other times it is hard, but it is never grass. I am in the heavenly court, and I am on display as evidence...but of what kind? Am I evidence for the prosecution or the defense? That is my choice. What will I do?

Tonight, will I make a good examination of conscience and confession? Everyone watches and prays for me.

Teaching In India

One of the signs of the Christian spirit is our willingness and preparation to tell others about our faith. That willingness should not be found only among priests and other religious, but among everyday laity. Such an evangelical spirit is promoted heavily by our Catholic bishops, but it doesn't always catch on. Catholic laity, for the most part I think, still leave evangelization to priests, nuns, brothers and sisters.

As a child brought up in Evangelicalism, I was aware of a prohibition in our Evangelical ranks against ordaining women. (Wonder where that came from?) But it became obvious that if the Gospel was going to get out, women had a major role to play. In a previous post I discussed a little of the legacy that my grandmother, Edith Willobee, established by helping to plant churches and preaching in India; and I mentioned my Evangelical (not Catholic) daughter, Trudy Nelson, going to India for a very brief visit to teach the untouchables how to live Christian lives that trust God in the midst of dire circumstances. Below is her prayer letter upon her return. I offer Trudy's experience and preparation up as an example of Christian virtue that we should all follow. (That's Trudy above with her family in 2006 aboard Family Ties off Flower Pot Island, Canada.) (Stan Williams)

-----

Dear Praying Friends, November 3, 2007

We serve an amazing God who is worthy of all our praise! I believed this with all my heart before going to India. While I was there, however, I sensed the power and presence of God in ways I never have before. Thank you for making this trip possible. It changed me; it changed each person on our team; and it changed the 265 Indian women who attended the conference.

In my earlier letter, I asked for prayer in five areas. Thank you for your faithfulness as you prayed for each of these things. I saw God use your prayers in tremendous ways!

It was incredible to watch each member of our team teach the Word of God. Some of us had experience in teaching, but others honestly weren’t comfortable with being asked to teach. Yet, God took our willingness and obedience to His call, and gave us clarity as we prepared our lessons.

I asked: Pray that we will communicate God’s Word effectively and appropriately.He also gave us passion and a personal connection to the topics we had been assigned. The women listened with wide eyes and, those who could, took vigorous notes.

I personally saw God take my topics and give me confidence in the words I should speak. He also provided clear visuals for my talks that were all of Him. (I’m not that creative!) One woman said, “This talk healed me,” regarding my first talk. In that talk, the women erupted into spontaneous applause at the climax of the visual (as a woman was transformed from an enslaved sinner to a daughter of the King of Kings). In the picture to the right, Rita is , wearing a “condemned” sign, with me before my talk.

Another woman found me and said, “I will never forget the sitar,” referring to the main illustration of my last talk. That talk was an allegory of how a common gourd is transformed into a sitar (a classical Indian instrument). I knew nothing about how sitars were made when God put this illustration on my heart. As I researched it, I was blown away by the unique ways a sitar is made and played and how well it illustrates what God does to transform us into instruments of good works for Him.

I asked: Pray for clarity, as we will be using translators during most of the teaching and many of the women are illiterate in their own language. This went hand in hand with the above request. It was exciting to have women translating for us who were also eager to communicate God’s truths. There were times when the translators would entreat the women lovingly, “Do you understand?! Listen! She has just told you something you need to hear!”

I asked: Pray for safety in travel and for good health. All of our traveling went smoothly and we were kept safe (even amid the crazy Indian traffic). We were also kept amazingly healthy throughout the week. There was a team member who had one rough day feeling sick, but it cleared up just in time for her day of teaching.

I asked: Pray that I will listen to God’s people in India and learn what God has prepared for me to learn from them as well. My answer to this could fill a few pages! Even before I arrived in India, God was revealing the depth of His love as I prayed through Ephesians 3:14-19. I had been praying for the Indian women to understand His love in a deeper way. I truly believe He answered this prayer. Yet, He did more: He filled my heart with His love for them—which translated into a deeper understanding of His love for me. Then, as I understood His love for me in a deeper way, I was freed to love them more. This was (and still is) a unique and powerful learning process for me.

Page 2

While in India, I was struck by the depth of hunger these women had for God’s blessing. They were needy in so many ways, but the need they acted on most visibly was their desire for Spiritual blessing. So often, I would be approached by someone who knew only how to say, “Please, pray.” They would stand before me, full of expectation for the prayer I could offer while my hands held theirs. God’s power filled me with passion for them and I was given His perspective of hope as I prayed for them.

Now that I’m home, I wonder how often we sense our own deep need for God’s blessing. Do I hunger for this like I saw these women hunger for it? Do I have faith to pray with power for my brothers and sisters here, just as I did there? Do I believe God is just as passionate about His children here as He is about His children there? Yes, I do—and because of this, I am still filled with hope and expectation.

The women also gave strong testimonies of the blessing it was be among such a large number of “Sisters.” Some came from across the city, but many took long bus and train rides to get to the conference. (Half of their travel expenses were provided to allow them to come.) They are such a small minority as Dalit Christians and are regularly persecuted for their “status” and their faith. One woman shared, “The number of women at this conference is greater than the size of my village.” The fellowship of being among Sisters was so overwhelming, that they even described it as, “a taste of heaven.”

These women cherished the fellowship given to them because they would not have it once they got home. Do I cherish the fellowship I have in my church? Do I thank God for my Christian sisters and brothers? Do I treat them like the gift they truly are to me? I want to grow even more in this area.

I asked: Pray also for Steve and the kids as they allow me to go, for safety and for an understanding of their partnership in this work. God took such good care of Steve and the kids while I was gone. Steve was able to take off work to stay home with them. Steve’s Mom was also a big help. I could not have done any of this if I didn’t have the full support of my family. Thank you so much for praying for them. I returned home to happy and healthy kids and to a loving and grateful husband. I am incredibly blessed to have each of them.

If you’ve made it this far in my letter—thank you! Thank you for your encouragement as I went. Thank you for your prayers as I was there. Thank you for your continued prayers for the church in India. If you see any reminders of my trip in the world around you, please remember to pray for these

women:

-Pray they will remember all they learned.
-Pray they will not lose heart in the midst of persecution.
-Pray they will have courage and eyes of faith.

Thank you again.
In Him,

Trudy Nelson
mtrudyn@gmail.com

Indian Legacy Passed Down

My grandmother, Edith (Flesher) Willobee, at an early age at the turn of the 20th century, was drawn to India to be a missionary. She went alone in 1907 and joined a small group of other American missionaries from the Pentecostal Bands. Two years later a young man, Ross Willobee, whom she had met in Bible school, followed her. The following year, after they had learned Hindi, they married. Two years later, in 1912, their first daughter was born, Ruth, who became my mother. In 1915 a second daughter came, Hope; and in 1919, in the middle of a great Indian famine, my uncle David was born. In 1921 my grandfather, Ross, died of black water fever. Edith took down the new doors in their bungalow to make a coffin for him. It took days for her to obtain the local chief's permission to bury Ross, a strange and uncomfortable custom to the Hindustani; they were used to either burning the dead (if they were rich); or after a brief ceremony in the middle of a field the poor carried the body to a river bed where it was buried on the shore in a shallow grave for animals to dig up and eat that night. A custom still followed. Three days later my little uncle David died. He collapsed suddenly during play of an unknown illness. Distraught, Edith, all alone, except for her daughters, removed the new window shutters from the bungalow and made a second coffin. Without waiting for the local chief's permission she buried David next to his father. The story continues for decades as my grandmother, after a nervous breakdown, gets out of bed years later and packs up three ox carts and for 5 years establishes Christian churches in Central India.


This past week, our eldest daughter, Trudy Nelson, traveled to India on her second short term missionary adventure there to do some teaching with a group of other ladies from her Baptist Church. Their goals was to teach a group of former untouchable ladies about growing in the Christian life. A recent India national law has allowed the untouchables to leave their low caste, join a religion, and change their life. Here is the link to pictures of her trip to Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh. In this picture she wears a sari I purchased during my trip to India in 1982.
picasaweb.google.com/mtrudyn/IndiaOct07

Addendum:

After I posted the above, my sister wrote me (after seeing the blog link) and reminded me that today is the anniversary of our father’s death. Benjamin R. Williams (d. October 24, 1989). Such a date to Catholics is a celebratory date, because it is the date that a person goes to his reward, which in the life of a saint like my Dad, is the moment when he “won the race set before him.” Dad couldn’t wait to go to heaven and praise Jesus. It was a driving motivation in his life...e.g. his eventual death. My mother, Ruth (the tallest of the girls in the picture above) was much the same. When we buried Dad, I can remember my mom standing next to his fresh grave and joyfully pointing to her future grave next to Dad and saying to me, “Someday my body will be right there. But I’ll be in heaven.”

This morning at Mass the priest (Fr. John Riccardo...yeah, I'm lucky) was telling us a little about St. Anthony Mary Claret (d. 1870), whose life (and death) we celebrate today, giving us yet another example upon which to model our life. I had forgotten that today was the anniversary of dad's death. As I was hearing about a little about the life of St. Claret and the example he was to us, I thought of my Dad...and how he was saints too, and a great example for us to follow. Then I thought about Ross and Ross, and my daughter's recent trip to India...literally (for a few days at least) Trudy was following Edith's example to preach to the poor of India....Edith’s great motivation.

We have all these role models for us...and it was cool that I thought through all of this during Mass this morning...as if my guardian angel was reminding me that today was a very special day for me...because of my Dad.

Evangelical Truth Bites from India

A couple of months ago, while driving back from meetings in New York, I stopped at an Ohio Turnpike Rest Stop. I was driving the Nineveh's Crossing van, which, under the logo, is written: Exploring Faith, Values, and History Through Digital Media. As I returned with my bottled water (I had given up finding anything to eat) I noticed a distinguished Indian man in his 60s or 70s standing near by van on the nearby grass. He approached me and asked what "Nineveh's Crossing" meant. He may have also noticed the license plate that reads simply: "NINEVEH". I explained, trying to provide my audience a brief history of the Old Testament story of Jonah, Nineveh, and the reluctant prophet's adventures. At first the man tried to bate me by implying he was Hindu and I needed to explain things to him.

But there was glint in his eye, he wanted me to rush past the story of Jonah as if he was very familiar with it, and then, when I asked, he told me his name -- "Matthew." I almost laughed out loud, and I surely grinned ear-to-ear. Yeah, right! Some Hindu, named after the author of the first book in the New Testament. Give me a break.

Matthew was smart, engaging, and I figured he was one of the long line of Indian Evangelists (some of which I've known both from here and India) who have mastered that delicacy between passion for the Bible and their Christian faith, and a wonderful respect and dignity for the person they're evangelizing. I did not mind being at the other end of what I figured was a seasoned preacher practicing his trade, here on the lawn next to one of America's great turnpikes. There was a Pauline essence to the scene -- and I let it soak in. Matthew really didn't preach at me, but he asked me a lot of questions about my "evangelization" and I ended up giving him a copy of Common Ground.

As it turns out he lives only a few miles from me here in the suburbs of Detroit, and occasionally I receive from him a letter. If you've ever been in a job with some public exposure, you've probably received letters or large envelopes with multiple news clippings or manic letters ranting about something germane or obscure. A while back we received a large envelope from someone (the sender's names are never included) with photostat copies of headlines and articles going back to the 1950s about everything anyone ever associated with the Catholic Church had ever, supposedly done wrong. Scrawled on the margins were rants against Catholicism. But strangely enough the sender had also included some articles about Judaism and Hare Krishna. We had an interesting chuckle and then threw collection away. Two weeks ago, when TBN aired Common Ground in the middle of the night, the 800 lines started to right at 3:30 AM. (Yes the business and production offices, and warehouse for SWC Films and Nineveh's Crossing are in our home). I finally answered the phone and the caller said quickly: "Why don't you people just praise Jesus instead of trying to get Protestants and Catholics to talk to each other? (CLICK)" Go figure. I have no idea what that meant in a rational world. (The phone rang for the next two days. A lot of orders. for the DVD.)

But, when we get letters from people with names and addresses attached I always read it all, and often, if necessary, answer...until we get essentially the SAME letter...proving that my earlier reply was not read, ignored, or not understood.

But when I get a letter from Matthew, it's different. The envelop (usually a stray Hallmark card envelope...today's was pink) are addressed to "Bro. Stanley D. Williams". The sticker on the back reads "ABORTION: The foundation on which to build a violent society." (I love this guy's sentiments.) The writing is a flamboyant print-cursive not unlike India and Urdu script. He writes in blue ink on think white, thinly lined paper, both sides, no margins, and his lines overlap slightly. His proofing marks, additions, and embellishments are in red, written between the lines. The pages have all the characteristics of a manic "crazy" conspiracy theory radical. Except they read like classic sermons. And here is a selection:

Beloved Bro. Stan,

Loving power (lightening symbol) greetings to you in the Wonderful Holy Jealous name of our Lord, Master, Savior Jesus Christ.

As a sequel to sending the second letter I read the Book of Jonah. It was edifying....It takes a little violence to inherit the kingdom of heaven here on earth. It is a mystery -- the mystery of truth. As the Psalmist prays intently, pleads passionately: Send out your truth (Ps. 43) and your light and usher me into the 3rd day - the day of wonder. Nineveh was a 3-day journey (across). But one day's journey (by Jonah) created such revolutionary change, just imagine had he gone the full course.

But for us God has opened the way to enter the Holy of Hollies and worship him there in Spirit & Truth in the beauty of holiness. You are meant for that! (Jonah 1:6 The captain of the ship said to Jonah: "Rise up and call upon our God! Perhaps God will be mindful of us so that we may not perish." Ephesians 5:14 "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.")

[SW: It's interesting that the ship's captain prophesied and foreshadowed what would happen in Nineveh and in the Passion of Christ.]

Matthew continues: Save and Compare is a popular marketing strategy here in the U.S. Just apply, extrapolate it to the spiritual market of truth and fables. Compare and Save yourself from this untoward generation. That is Peter's prescription. (Acts 2:40). Note verse 41. As I choose, so I eat, and I am what I eat. We have Angel food and Devil's food in the market - literally!

COMPARE:
Mask or Manifest (Eph 5:13)
Perish or Flourish (Gal 1:16)
Perversion or Perfection
Slavery or Mastery
Blackness or whiteness as wool & snow (Isa 1)
Flee from or flee to (Heb 6:18)
Pit (of corruption) or Palace (like Joseph's protocol order)
Lying vanities or True value
Corruption or Correction
Select or All (Acts 3:22)
Shadow or Light
Preach for hire or Preach what I bid thee
1 day's journey or a full 3-day Journey

The choice is ours, purely personal. Let us personalize. God spare you. So arise, let Christ shine upon you and pity you. Amen.

I've often heard Christ's reference to his own death and resurrection, as signified by Jonah's three days in the whale. As Jonah goes into the whale, so Christ descends to hell. Coming out of the whale, and out of the grave brings salvation. But Jonah only preaches for 1 day, and the city repents. Imagine if Jonah had gone the extra days? What would have happened if Jesus had only spent 1 day in the grave, instead of 3. The lesson here is perseverance in the face of adversity, and choosing repeatedly, while in the belly's stomach, what is good.

Nectar in a Sieve

Nectar in a Sieve has affected me deeply, although I am familiar first hand with the life described in it. Although I am a westerner, born and raised in the U.S. Midwest, white, upper-middle class, well-educated, and Christian -- I know something of India -- and know that the spirit and essence of this story is as true as anything real. It is of immeasurable value.

L-R:Ruth (Willobee) Williams, Edith
(Flesher) Willobee, David Willobee,
Hope (Willobee) Winke, Ross Willobee

My mother (Ruth) and aunt (Hope) were born of missionary parents in India in 1912 and 1915. In 1921 their father (Ross) and my grandfather, died there of black water fever. A few days later their 2-year old brother (David) dropped dead while playing -- all during a famine. Their mother (Edith) stayed on. India was British back then, but poverty was deep and wide throughout the land, and my grandmother lived nearly as poor as those around her, being supported by donations from the U.S. that amounted to 25 cents to a dollar at a time. I have her accounting books and I grew up with stories, and later came across over 1,000 pages of diaries from her that are very much in keeping with life that Kamala Markandaya writes about.

In 1982 I accompanied my mother and aunt back to their birthplaces, which were still in the midst of extreme poverty and the ignorant stupidity of which Kamala describes through the eyes of the white doctor Kenney. I've eaten with families on dung floors, and help stir pots of curry over open fires. I've met and photographed families living on streets with only what they can carry to their name. I've been to temple in the middle of the night and breathed the pungent smoke of dung cakes used for fuel, and watched as a dead leper was carried from her mud-dung hut and given an impromptu funeral in a field before being carried off to be buried in the sands of a river so animals could easily dispose of her body at night.

Perhaps it was all of that which spoke to me in Ms. Markandaya's writing. But I will tell you this. Reading this novel, if you are a Westerner of any ilk, is more important than eating. Let your children go without food for a few meals, if that will give you time to live, love, and walk with Rukmani. This book should be required reading (period - no qualifications). In its reading you will be a better person, and your children, sans meals, more healthy. If you are a priest that hands on penance, Nectar in a Sieve should be reading for any sin involving wealth, greed, abundance, or a lack of human dignity or marital infidelity. I dare to say that before Christ came to Earth to care and love the poor, he read this book. (It is a possible thing, you know.) On the outside Nectar in a Sieve is about the suffering and trials of living near the bottom of the cast system in rural India. But what it's really about is how love and hope can possess the human heart in the most desperate of lives.