The devil and revivals

I remember in 1971 when my father was born again. I was five. It was a life-transforming change. The whole direction of his life changed. He immediately got down to informing his family of nine siblings and their families, as well as my mother’s family, all third, fourth, and fifth generation Christians, by many letters, reasoning with them about the need for repentance and salvation, as well as pointing out some of the problems with the Lutheran church in South India that had strayed far away from the scriptures and become very liberal. His rebirth and subsequent plea to “come out of her” drew a divisive line through the group, where a small number showed interest in what he had discovered by the grace of God, and a much larger section regarded the turn as a tragic end for a man who had hitherto showed so much promise. Much to my father’s sorrow, his father, a well known Lutheran pastor, did not openly support him. Nevertheless, my grandfather’s thoughtful silence was loud enough.

Within a decade, the same people, while still remaining in the old church, were speaking this new evangelical jargon. As various good movements moved into university campuses and churches, and Christian book stores filled with good Christian literature, everyone spoke of being born again. Phrases like “accepting Jesus as one’s personal Saviour” became commonplace.

Although one cannot say for sure, it looked as if the same proportion of unregenerated people still filled the pews in the same old churches, the only difference being that the jargon had changed, the songs had changed, the style of praying had changed, and so on.

For our founders

For our founders we would thank Thee,
Their loving gracious plan,
Their many deeds of kindness,
Since first our school began. . .

We thank Thee O Father, for these and all Thy care
Bestowed upon Thy children both here and everywhere.

This is from the school hymn of Clarence High School, Bangalore. I remember Mr. Flack urging our Std 8 class in 1978 to memorize the school hymn and telling us that a good way to do this was to think about the meaning, and then he spoke to us about the founders of the school, the Redwood brothers.

I had not realised the role the Brethren Assemblies in New Zealand had played in the founding of the school until I went through the following book:
In His Name
A record of Assembly Missionary Outreach from New Zealand
By L.A.Marsh

Here are some excerpts from this book that have to do with Clarence and Bethesda Church.

Biking in Bangalore

On 26 June 1978, my father and my cousin Pradan annan bought a cycle for me. It was a Hero ladies cycle. In those days, it was a very common kind of cycle, but one rarely sees it on the road these days.

It was a tall cycle and I could not reach the ground if I was sitting on the seat. To get on, I used the technique of giving the cycle a push, with my left foot on the left pedal and my right foot on the road behind me and then jumping on. The ample space in front between the seat and the handle bars allowed me to swing my right leg over to the pedal on the other side even when wearing a pavadai, which is a long skirt. The bike did not have gears, and this made negotiating long stretches of uphill roads rather difficult. For three years in school and two years in college, I took the bike wherever I went. It became so much like a part of me, that I found it awkward to walk on the road without it, as if I did not know what to do with my hands.

Most high school kids in my school had bikes. I remember one time when almost the whole school biked over to Lalbagh for the annual flower show. It was a long distance from Richards Town but was good fun. We had asked for a holiday saying, “How could we ever get to see the flower show if we kept having school?” Mr. Flack, knowing that we were actually fishing for a holiday, told us to cycle up to Lalbagh and return to school. We had hoped that we would have the day off, and now, the only way we could avoid school was by actually biking the distance. I think we had some teachers biking with us as well.

After five yeas of cycling, I stopped almost completely because two of my friends lost their mothers in road accidents, and I found that I could not cope with the traffic. Cycles of this type have all but disappeared from the roads these days, but not from the memories of many young women of bygone years.

I can see myself whizzing down hill from Clarence High School towards Tannery road on my way home . . . in the rain . . . against the wind . . . soaked to the bone . . . shivering . . . but free . . .

Piano-learning travails

Father GB started me on the piano with John Thompson books when I was four or five and living in Calcutta. Learning piano from him was not very pleasant, because he was a perfectionist and the broomstick (must write more about that dear broomstick in another post) was a fixture on the piano top. Also, I could not practice piano for weeks at a time because of a troublesome eczema on my finger tips that plagued me for several decades. By the time I was eight, we—my father, the broomstick, and I—had painfully made our way upto the third-grade level. Then we had to move to Bangalore.

In Bangalore, we found that hiring pianos was not as easy as it had been in Calcutta.

Do you want to live in New Zealand?

On October 6th, we completed two years in New Zealand. Auckland has started to feel like home. This probably means that we have settled down comfortably. God has blessed us with everything that we need and more. Next month, we are going to India to attend a niece’s wedding. This is something we look forward to. I am sure we will identify some aspects about India that we had hitherto missed, that are special. I am sure that when we return we will also be glad to be able to live in New Zealand.If anyone wants to ask me anything regarding immigration to New Zealand, from the point of view of our experiences, I would be happy to oblige.

The biggest impediment for ordinary people wanting to come to New Zealand, in my opinion, is the fact that NZ expects them to submit an offer letter from some company offering them a job. But most companies are hesitant to recruit people from overseas because they have to establish that no one was found in New Zealand to do that job. So ordinary people are left with a catch-22 situation. But who is to say that you are not extraordinary? New Zealand is a beautiful country and it may be a good idea to investigate and see if you qualify to come in.

The Indian National Anthem

Today India celebrates 60 years of independence from British rule.

The national anthem, Jana gana mana, an anthem in praise of God Almighty, was penned by Rabindranath Tagore in a highly sanskritised from of Bengali. Because of this, much of the anthem is not readily understood by most Indians. I think schools have failed to teach us the meaning of the words and make the anthem something that we can sing meaningfully.

However, in all the schools in which I studied, the anthem was given due respect, and emphasis was placed on respectful posture and correct pronunciation. The emotions that I feel when listening to the anthem are hard to explain and include pride, patriotism, gratitude, and nostalgia.

It has been alleged that this song was written in praise of King George V. Can this be true?

Enoch pleased God

[Zac Poonen is the pastor of Christian Fellowship Church in Bangalore, which is a Pentecostal church. To my “Reformed” friends, I might describe him as being a preacher like Tozer. He is highly talented and had he desired the recognition of the world, he would have had it offered to him on a platter; instead he chose another life—of speaking forth what he believed to be the truth. Uncle Zac, as I call him, and his wife Aunty Annie, will always have a special place in my heart because, although I cannot be sure of when the Spirit of God began His work in my life, I knew I was a child of God during the two years we spent in this church, and as a child of 9, I listened very carefully.]

Let Your Ambition be to “Please God”

Zac Poonen

In just three words the Holy Spirit records the testimony of Enoch’s life: “He pleased God” (Heb. 11:5). There is no mention of wealth amassed or of earthly honours obtained. There is no record of sermons preached or of good deeds done, nor even of the souls led to God through his witness. Neither are we told how popular or famous he became. No, instead of all this his life is summed up in that one tense sentence, “He pleased God.” That is all, and that is enough. It is indeed the only thing that will have value in eternity. The Bible tells us that God created all things “for his pleasure” (Rev. 4:11). It follows therefore that the measure in which we please God is the true measure of the effectiveness of our lives. In no other way is the cost of our redemption justified. Our very existence on earth is meaningless if God is not thereby glorified.

Secret language of Bangalore kids in the 1970s

When we lived in Bangalore in Pottery Town in the late 70s, our houses were quite close together. Almost every evening, after school and after a snack, my neighbour Anita and I chatted for an hour or so. Her parents were stricter than mine were, and she could not come out of the house to speak with me, but spoke to me through the window of their dining room. I would sit perched on the wall separating our houses. In order to keep our conversations private we spoke in P Language.

It takes a while to get the hang of it and I suspect that small children take to it much faster than can adults. You’ve got to break up every syllable into two and insert a ‘p’ consonant sound in the middle.

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath

in P language would be:

The-pe quapa-lipi-tipy op-of meper-cipy ip-is nop-pot stra-pained
Ip-it drop-op-pe-peth ap-as the-pe ge-pen-tiple rep-pain frop-om heape-vepen
Up-up-pup-on the-pe pla-pace bipin-nip-eath

It is that easy.

Well, it looks difficult and sounds even more impossible. But really, it is easy to speak it, once your brain learns to recognise the syllables in your sentences. It is a bit harder to understand P language than to speak it because one has to learn to listen and get the brain to decrypt it–to remove the ‘p’ and unite the broken syllable–but even this is soon accomplished. In the 70s many school children in Bangalore were experts at this. I am sure some of them may google ‘P Language’ and get to this blog and feel good that this language has been given due honour.

Looking back at the chirpy conversations that ranged from subjects silly to most profound that Anita and I had, the only thing I am sorry about is that we annoyed our moms with hours of what must have sounded like nonsense.

I speak Tonguelish

Of course, you have not heard of Tonguelish, but it is very real and has many dialects. The usual dialect that I use is a mixture of English and Tamil. If I’m speaking with an Indian who is not a Tamilian, I mix in Hindi instead of Tamil. At home, we speak the Tamil variety.

I might say:

“Time-uh ippadi waste pannuradhu is wrong, yenna? Please go and do something useful.”

or

“Wasting time like this is wrong, what (do you understand)? Please go and do something useful.”

And the accused might reply,

“Mama, break-ey edukka vidduradhilla, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,’ dhaaney?”

which means

“Mama, you do not ever let us take a break, Doesn’t all work and no play make Jack a dull boy?”

Ziegenbalg learnt Tamil when he came to India 300 years ago and began to translate the Bible. William Carey came to India and translated the Bible into several Indian languages. My friend Brent Rogers who works in Japan could read Greek and Hebrew as a young man and was learning Kannada when I first met him; now he has learned Japanese. I believe learning languages is a gift. I have to believe this or hang my head in shame. English is the only language I can read, write, speak, and think in.

Flower Queen

Maharani slept on the pavement with her son. She tried desperately to eke out a living by selling flowers in Chennai, and her mental problems did not help matters. I tried to help her but found it difficult to sift through the facts that she gave me. It was impossible to be completely sure when she was under a delusion and when she was telling me the truth.

She was waiting for compensation from the Government because her husband had been killed in a road accident, and I found that she was no match for the general apathy and corruption through which she would have to fight her way. I published the journal that I maintained at the time, calling my book Flower Queen. It is available at Amazon.com
Click here for the editorial review, pricing details, and Search Inside feature

An excerpt from the book:
“My husband’s sister is our family saathaan and brings misfortune to the family.” Whenever Flower Queen said these ‘profound’ things, she took on an expression that looked like something between a puppy and a learned sage.

She flashed her wise puppy look at me another time when she took me into her confidence and whispered in my ear that it would not rain in Chennai till she got a house because she had cursed the city. She predicted that it would rain in torrents the day she got a house.

“Only after I sleep a night in the new house will it rain, you will see.” She also had some kind advice for me

“Do not go out in the sun because the sun will be extra hot these days.”

“Why is that so?” I asked her absent mindedly.

“Because of my curse. I have cursed the city with a dry spell.” Then she continued. “Amma, if you walk in the sun, you will go wonky in the head like me. Then you will start roaming the streets as I do.”

I was going wonky already. I also had to keep these stories to myself because Philip said they made him sick.