Journals from theEdge: By Arden Robertson*
 
The tolerance and inclusive nature of Hinduism have always been incomprehensible to me, but since moving to South Asia, it makes me feel slightly schizophrenic. My simple, finite mind cannot understand how all roads could possibly lead to the same place, how all gods could possibly be one; but clearly I don’t have to look far to see that these thoughts and beliefs have caught on.

Since my team doesn’t technically work with Hindus, I had reasoned away why God has not broken my heart for these people. I had cut my feelings off from learning too much for fear of being completely overwhelmed – until now.

I did not know what to expect as my teammate and I left the house on Diwali to celebrate the biggest Hindu festival yet. The city’s excitement between shopping and traffic had overthrown any Christmas hustle and bustle I had ever seen. People were everywhere in the days leading up to this holiday. My national friends compare their holiday to Christmas. It’s the festival of lights and everyone gives gifts, wears new clothes, eats lots of foods and sweets, visits the homes of family and close friends, and shoots off crackers (fireworks) until all hours of the night. It is one big party!

According to tradition, their gods will notice the house with the most light, whether that’s from crackers or candles. There aren’t too many rules with Hinduism though, so the more questions I ask, the more I leave confused.

We went to our favorite Muslim family’s house – yes, they celebrate Diwali even though they aren’t Hindu – and then to visit a Hindu family that we met through them. I experienced my first Hindu prayer and worship in a national’s home, drank chai (hot milk tea) three times in three hours, watched fireworks set off inside of a house, ate enough sweets that I thought I was going to hurl, and silently sang ‘Shine Jesus Shine, fill this land with the Father’s glory….’ I also lit candles to decorate a house, prayed, shared my story, and headed home exhausted.

More important than what happened externally that night was what God began doing in my heart and mind.

All night, I listened to what sounded like a war zone outside. The celebration with all the fireworks had gone on for hours upon hours without ceasing. The indescribable loud noises enabled me to imagine what it would be like to be in the midst of a war as a soldier. I was vividly reminded that night of the war that rages in the spiritual realms. The night – with all its hopelessness and desolation, its joy and laughter, its paradoxical and inconsistent contradictions juxtaposed with the Truth we presented – was a striking portrait of the war we in Christ face daily.

With all the literal noise and racket and with all the smoke, pollution and haze, I could not even see the house in front of me. Yet, there was light; so many houses were decorated with small candles. Even though they were clearly not celebrating the true Light, from a distance looking down the streets, it was the small candles shining one at a time that allowed me to see.

I realized that it is also my candle, my light, His Light, that God will use as He wishes right here, right now, in this place, for this time.

As I looked off into the darkness from my balcony, I remembered a quote from one of my favorite movies, “The gunfire around us makes it hard to hear, but the human voice is different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury everything else, even when it’s not shouting, even if it’s just a whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard over armies – when it’s telling the truth.”

May my life be a whisper as it tells the Truth.

–30—

*Name changed for security reasons.

Arden Robertson is a Journeyman serving on theEdge in South Asia.