Saturday, November 21, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Good Things Don't Stay Together
Moments that we’ve shared, cannot be jotted down on paper,
But nevertheless it was chemistry, not vapor,
You walked into my life, and made the deepest mark,
This ignited my fire, which gave birth to a spark,
When you are here, I have the world with me,
It is heaven; I wish it could be eternity,
We walked side by side,
Hand in hand, under the moonlight,
The touch of your hand, your presence worthwhile,
The warmth that you give me makes me feel so secure,
I will be with you in pain; I will be with you in cure!
As the sun rose, and a new day just began,
You leave my hand and told me it’s all done,
I know you have to go, but you’ll stay by my side,
That look in your eyes, just seems to tell me more,
Though, the parting is a pain, our love seems to grow,
You tell me not to cry, but, keep a positive heart,
“Because all good things don’t stay together, but often stay apart.”
The day is finally here, when you leave me all alone,
Like an orphan misses a mother, and a homeless misses a home,
The depth in your eyes, your touch and your feel,
Is what I’ll miss, I’ll miss you for real,
That passion and that care, you’ve showered on me,
Are all those special moments, and that’s what they are going to be.
If I had to give you something, that would remind you of me,
I’d give you a house full of memories,
Because memories are things that go deeper into time,
We can look back at them and revive all that, lasting for years to go,
We’ll build it together and cherish it forever,
All that we shared, we’d capture under lock and key,
And make a life in that house, which is ideal for you and me.
Its time for us to part, you’ll be at the other end of the world,
Both of us with a totally shattered heart,
My heart bleeds to see you depart,
I will wait for you with bated breath,
I will lead my life, but I will also fret,
Cause without you I am incomplete, the emptiness is there,
Only when you are with me again, will that hollowness disappear,
As the sun goes down, with autumn all around,
Till the waters are blue, I will wait for you,
I wish you luck for the times we‘re apart,
I will miss you, don’t worry I will convince my heart.
But nevertheless it was chemistry, not vapor,
You walked into my life, and made the deepest mark,
This ignited my fire, which gave birth to a spark,
When you are here, I have the world with me,
It is heaven; I wish it could be eternity,
We walked side by side,
Hand in hand, under the moonlight,
The touch of your hand, your presence worthwhile,
The warmth that you give me makes me feel so secure,
I will be with you in pain; I will be with you in cure!
As the sun rose, and a new day just began,
You leave my hand and told me it’s all done,
I know you have to go, but you’ll stay by my side,
That look in your eyes, just seems to tell me more,
Though, the parting is a pain, our love seems to grow,
You tell me not to cry, but, keep a positive heart,
“Because all good things don’t stay together, but often stay apart.”
The day is finally here, when you leave me all alone,
Like an orphan misses a mother, and a homeless misses a home,
The depth in your eyes, your touch and your feel,
Is what I’ll miss, I’ll miss you for real,
That passion and that care, you’ve showered on me,
Are all those special moments, and that’s what they are going to be.
If I had to give you something, that would remind you of me,
I’d give you a house full of memories,
Because memories are things that go deeper into time,
We can look back at them and revive all that, lasting for years to go,
We’ll build it together and cherish it forever,
All that we shared, we’d capture under lock and key,
And make a life in that house, which is ideal for you and me.
Its time for us to part, you’ll be at the other end of the world,
Both of us with a totally shattered heart,
My heart bleeds to see you depart,
I will wait for you with bated breath,
I will lead my life, but I will also fret,
Cause without you I am incomplete, the emptiness is there,
Only when you are with me again, will that hollowness disappear,
As the sun goes down, with autumn all around,
Till the waters are blue, I will wait for you,
I wish you luck for the times we‘re apart,
I will miss you, don’t worry I will convince my heart.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
In His Own Time
We have heard with our ears, O God; our fathers have told us
What you did in their days, in days long ago—Psalm 44: 1
The work of missionizing did not end with the book of Acts in the Bible. It continued to spread to every nook and corner of the world and acquired varied forms and style—church planting, evangelisation, missionary enterprises like education, literature and health care institutions. The story is about the Kuki society’s saga with the first colonial missionaries, affectionately called “sapkang pastor te.”
During the course of my fieldwork in the hills of Manipur, I had insightful discussions with old men of the villages. Older people still remember their encounter with the foreign missionaries whom they thought look like some animals, with their white skin and tall features. The very sight of a missionary poses great pleasure to the people. Mr. Douthang Singsit, an old man in his early eighties recollects how he and his friend tried to climb over some fences that mark the missionary compound to have a glimpse of the white men.
In its early days, the mission field in Manipur was divided into two main camps. The North-West was under the Baptist Mission with Pettigrew and Crozier spearheading it. Crozier was especially in charge of the Kukis in the area. He was responsible for the establishment of leprosy centre in Kangpokpi besides translating the Bible into the Thadou dialect. One story narrated by a retired pastor Satkholal Lhouvum was particularly interesting. The event happened after the Kuki Rebellion (1917-1919) during the time of missionary G.G.Crozier, affectionately called by the local people as “Crozier sahib.”
There was a chief name Loonpilal (Lunpilal) of one Santing village. At that time, Santing was in Tamei subdivion under Laijang province, which has now become Tamenglong district. The village was big and had about a hundred residents. Crozier said to him, “Lunpilal, your village has become very prosperous and big. I have a proposition before you: accept the Christian God and I will build a school in your village and construct a road between Kangpokpi and your village.”
Lunpilal at first readily agreed to this. He added, “Sahib! I have an unmarried sister name Chongkholam, who is always sick. Please heal her too in addition to all that is there in your proposal.” G.G. Crozier agreed to this and said, “Yes! I will surely see to it that she is healed.” However, after the meeting was over and Crozier party had left the place, there was commotion in the village. The Semang-pachongs or the council of Ministers under the chief expressed their annoyance and reluctance to the chief’s decision to collaborate with the white men. Since, the second meeting was to be held at the end of the year, there was terrifying speculation as to what could be the outcome.
At the fixed time, Crozier sent words to the chief Lunpilal, “after your village is done with the harvesting work, I will come with my wife and my cabinet and take over the whole villagers as Christian converts. As per the terms of our agreement, I will build a school and a road from Santing to Kangpokpi. I have also treated your sister Chongkholam of her illness.”
Upon hearing this, the ministers were bending upon killing Lunpilal. There was chaos all around, so much so that when Crozier and his party reach the place, the chief court was deserted. They had all ran away to avoid meeting them. Now, the chief had a big courtyard outside his house. A dejected Crozier realising the situation, kneel down in the big lawn outside the chief’s residence and prayed. It is said that Crozier wept profusely over the failure of the plan to convert the people of that place.
That day crozier prayed in the courtyard, “Pathen! Tuni a nasohpa keiman hiche Santing kholai ahi, nangma houbung tun doh tei ding a kana ngaito ahin. Kumlhung keiya ka programme jouse tuni hin a lawsam tan. Ahin tun keima mihem hina a kamolso joulou jongleh nang man pha nasah phat phat leh hiche Kadinna munna hi na maicham inn nahin sah ding ahi.” (Lord! I, your servant had made plans to build a church in this Santing village. Today, my yearlong plan is about to become a failure. Nevertheless, I am confident that what I as a mere human being cannot do, is not impossible for you. In your own time, turn this place and the very ground I stand into a place of your sanctuary.)
They left the place feeling dejected and embarrassed. Since the proposal to build a church, Mission School and a road between Kangpokpi and Santing did not come through; the mission directed their interest to a village in Ukhrul who readily agreed to the offer. Our narrator, a retired pastor Satkholal Lhouvum, narrated his own experience in the story. He was a pastor in the same village between the year 1969 and 1978. He said that the Takou people built a church in that same place where G.G. Crozier had knelt down to pray. Therefore, God in His graciousness answered the prayer made by G.G. Crozier in 1930 in the year 1978.
God’s timings are often slow, but it is a solace to know that our petitions are never wasted. We might forget them but He does not because He is a sovereign and faithful God who is concern with our needs. What is required of us it to be able to put our faith in God to engineer circumstances around us, also “to be still and know that He is God.”
What you did in their days, in days long ago—Psalm 44: 1
The work of missionizing did not end with the book of Acts in the Bible. It continued to spread to every nook and corner of the world and acquired varied forms and style—church planting, evangelisation, missionary enterprises like education, literature and health care institutions. The story is about the Kuki society’s saga with the first colonial missionaries, affectionately called “sapkang pastor te.”
During the course of my fieldwork in the hills of Manipur, I had insightful discussions with old men of the villages. Older people still remember their encounter with the foreign missionaries whom they thought look like some animals, with their white skin and tall features. The very sight of a missionary poses great pleasure to the people. Mr. Douthang Singsit, an old man in his early eighties recollects how he and his friend tried to climb over some fences that mark the missionary compound to have a glimpse of the white men.
In its early days, the mission field in Manipur was divided into two main camps. The North-West was under the Baptist Mission with Pettigrew and Crozier spearheading it. Crozier was especially in charge of the Kukis in the area. He was responsible for the establishment of leprosy centre in Kangpokpi besides translating the Bible into the Thadou dialect. One story narrated by a retired pastor Satkholal Lhouvum was particularly interesting. The event happened after the Kuki Rebellion (1917-1919) during the time of missionary G.G.Crozier, affectionately called by the local people as “Crozier sahib.”
There was a chief name Loonpilal (Lunpilal) of one Santing village. At that time, Santing was in Tamei subdivion under Laijang province, which has now become Tamenglong district. The village was big and had about a hundred residents. Crozier said to him, “Lunpilal, your village has become very prosperous and big. I have a proposition before you: accept the Christian God and I will build a school in your village and construct a road between Kangpokpi and your village.”
Lunpilal at first readily agreed to this. He added, “Sahib! I have an unmarried sister name Chongkholam, who is always sick. Please heal her too in addition to all that is there in your proposal.” G.G. Crozier agreed to this and said, “Yes! I will surely see to it that she is healed.” However, after the meeting was over and Crozier party had left the place, there was commotion in the village. The Semang-pachongs or the council of Ministers under the chief expressed their annoyance and reluctance to the chief’s decision to collaborate with the white men. Since, the second meeting was to be held at the end of the year, there was terrifying speculation as to what could be the outcome.
At the fixed time, Crozier sent words to the chief Lunpilal, “after your village is done with the harvesting work, I will come with my wife and my cabinet and take over the whole villagers as Christian converts. As per the terms of our agreement, I will build a school and a road from Santing to Kangpokpi. I have also treated your sister Chongkholam of her illness.”
Upon hearing this, the ministers were bending upon killing Lunpilal. There was chaos all around, so much so that when Crozier and his party reach the place, the chief court was deserted. They had all ran away to avoid meeting them. Now, the chief had a big courtyard outside his house. A dejected Crozier realising the situation, kneel down in the big lawn outside the chief’s residence and prayed. It is said that Crozier wept profusely over the failure of the plan to convert the people of that place.
That day crozier prayed in the courtyard, “Pathen! Tuni a nasohpa keiman hiche Santing kholai ahi, nangma houbung tun doh tei ding a kana ngaito ahin. Kumlhung keiya ka programme jouse tuni hin a lawsam tan. Ahin tun keima mihem hina a kamolso joulou jongleh nang man pha nasah phat phat leh hiche Kadinna munna hi na maicham inn nahin sah ding ahi.” (Lord! I, your servant had made plans to build a church in this Santing village. Today, my yearlong plan is about to become a failure. Nevertheless, I am confident that what I as a mere human being cannot do, is not impossible for you. In your own time, turn this place and the very ground I stand into a place of your sanctuary.)
They left the place feeling dejected and embarrassed. Since the proposal to build a church, Mission School and a road between Kangpokpi and Santing did not come through; the mission directed their interest to a village in Ukhrul who readily agreed to the offer. Our narrator, a retired pastor Satkholal Lhouvum, narrated his own experience in the story. He was a pastor in the same village between the year 1969 and 1978. He said that the Takou people built a church in that same place where G.G. Crozier had knelt down to pray. Therefore, God in His graciousness answered the prayer made by G.G. Crozier in 1930 in the year 1978.
God’s timings are often slow, but it is a solace to know that our petitions are never wasted. We might forget them but He does not because He is a sovereign and faithful God who is concern with our needs. What is required of us it to be able to put our faith in God to engineer circumstances around us, also “to be still and know that He is God.”
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Life as it is...
Anyone who has watched the movie, “The Hours,” would find the dialogue based on a book by Virginia Woolf very interesting and at the same time very occupying. In the scene which represents the following dialogue: Richard is a dying man in the late stage of HIV/AIDS and Clarissa is his loyal ladylove, who tries to comfort him.
Clarissa Vaughn: All right Richard, do me one simple favor. Come. Come sit.
Richard Brown: I don't think I can make it to the party, Clarissa.
Clarissa Vaughn: You don't have to go to the party, you don't have to go to the ceremony, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You can do as you like.
Richard Brown: But I still have to face the hours, don't I? I mean, the hours after the party, and the hours after that...
Clarissa Vaughn: You do have good days still. You know you do.
Richard Brown: Not really. I mean, it's kind of you to say so, but it's not really true.
Clarissa Vaughn: You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
Clarissa Vaughn: That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other.
Clarissa Vaughn: Dear ... To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Richard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.
Clarissa Vaughn: I don't know what's happening to me. I seemed to be unraveling.
Richard Brown: I don't think two people could have been happier than we've been.
Clarissa Vaughn: All right Richard, do me one simple favor. Come. Come sit.
Richard Brown: I don't think I can make it to the party, Clarissa.
Clarissa Vaughn: You don't have to go to the party, you don't have to go to the ceremony, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You can do as you like.
Richard Brown: But I still have to face the hours, don't I? I mean, the hours after the party, and the hours after that...
Clarissa Vaughn: You do have good days still. You know you do.
Richard Brown: Not really. I mean, it's kind of you to say so, but it's not really true.
Clarissa Vaughn: You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
Clarissa Vaughn: That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other.
Clarissa Vaughn: Dear ... To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Richard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.
Clarissa Vaughn: I don't know what's happening to me. I seemed to be unraveling.
Richard Brown: I don't think two people could have been happier than we've been.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Bigger than my imagination
Lord, I am awaken in the wee hours of the morning. I am overwhelmed by many matters both of the heart and my health which puts a closure to many things I want to do. It was then that I sense your presence close to me...telling me that I wasn't alone. So, I want to tell you Lord (and put this down in writing, to remind myself over and over again)...that you are truly beautiful...wonderful...gracious...merciful. I feel your peace bathing my soul and I felt happy again. Its something, i have been searching for, without quite realizing what it was that I wanted. I have often considered myself mature enough to know what I want, but you know what i need.I realize this morning that you are much much bigger than my imagination. My understanding of You is just a speck of what you are really made of...and so is your Love for me...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Relationships
Based on the book by Joyce Meyer--Approval Addiction
A relationship is not healthy if one person is in control while the other struggles for approval, gaining it by being ready to do anything the other party wants, no matter what it is or how that individual feels about it personally.If we have to sin against our own consciences in order to have someone's approval, we are out of the will of God.
What you allow in the beginning will come to be expected.If we don't established from the beginning what we expect, we will be taken advantage of later.
Sometimes people compromise in the early stages of a relationship in order to get something or someone they want. They think they can change the person later, but it doesn't always work that way.
Wisdom always chooses now what it will be happy with later on. Don't live like there is no tomorrow, because tomorrow always comes.
Ask God to give you "divine connections." He may choose relationships for you that would never have chosen because you have a preconceived ideas about what you want. Learn to look beyond the exterior of people and see their heart.
A relationship is not healthy if one person is in control while the other struggles for approval, gaining it by being ready to do anything the other party wants, no matter what it is or how that individual feels about it personally.If we have to sin against our own consciences in order to have someone's approval, we are out of the will of God.
What you allow in the beginning will come to be expected.If we don't established from the beginning what we expect, we will be taken advantage of later.
Sometimes people compromise in the early stages of a relationship in order to get something or someone they want. They think they can change the person later, but it doesn't always work that way.
Wisdom always chooses now what it will be happy with later on. Don't live like there is no tomorrow, because tomorrow always comes.
Ask God to give you "divine connections." He may choose relationships for you that would never have chosen because you have a preconceived ideas about what you want. Learn to look beyond the exterior of people and see their heart.
The Heart of a woman
Every Woman too, as a little girl holds in her heart her most precious dreams. She longs to be swept up into a romance, to play an irreplaceable role in a great adventure, to be the beauty of the story. These desires are far more than child's play. They are the secret of the feminine heart.
Childhood Fantasies
Calvin: If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I'll bet they'd live a lot differently.
Hobbes: how so?
Calvin: Well, when you look into infinity, you realize that there are more important things than what people do all day
When young you think the universe evolved around you and that people and things exists for you..but comes other people birthday and you realize the universe also evolves around other people.
Hobbes: how so?
Calvin: Well, when you look into infinity, you realize that there are more important things than what people do all day
When young you think the universe evolved around you and that people and things exists for you..but comes other people birthday and you realize the universe also evolves around other people.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Course in Miracles
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Marianne Williamson
A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles," 1992 (commonly misattributed to Nelson Mandela, 1994 inauguration speech)
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Marianne Williamson
A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles," 1992 (commonly misattributed to Nelson Mandela, 1994 inauguration speech)
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
A Love Triangle: Me, My dad and ...
Ever since I accepted Christ five years ago, He has been faithful in consistently moulding me with the experiences that life complex journey has to offer. Facing life becomes so much easier when we are armed with the knowledge of God's love, and the faith that with Him by our side, all things are possible. God's ways of working out things are mysterious, and very often beyond our comprehension. His patience and seemingly slowness in acting out often becomes overbearing and intolerable for someone as impatient as me. Now I realize that this is because He respect human freedom regardless of cost in showing us the right way. I still remember last December (2004), as I was sitting by the bedside of my father, holding his almost lifeless hand. Life in its true realistic form minus all its hopes and dreams was made very clear to me. I watch him helplessly as he slowly fades into oblivion. As the countdown begins for his last journey, and i watch him trying to say things--perhaps things that he had kept for another day and never got the chance to say. My father and I still had a lot of unfulfilled plans. I couldn't understand why everything had come to an abrupt end and that too in such an unexpected way.
I had pleaded with God to give him more time to prove himself. But during those trying moments, God seemed adamant. I had no part to play and no importance at all in His will. He wanted His way and He had it.Subsequently, the aftermath was my faith unconsciously dwindling away, with seeds of doubts gearing its ugly head as to whether i matter to God.
Even though, I , as the building was immature and weak, God as the foundation stone was strong and constant. Through the pain, He revealed to me the internal weaknesses that were inherent in me, which had been obstructing His Grace. Gradually, with this realisation comes the strength to cope with it. I learn that we cannot prevent the birds of sadness from flying over our heads, but we can prevent them from nestling in our hair through divine intervention.
Sometimes pain can do what even joy cannot do, such as exposing the vanity of earth's trifles and filling our heart with longing for the peace in heaven.
I had pleaded with God to give him more time to prove himself. But during those trying moments, God seemed adamant. I had no part to play and no importance at all in His will. He wanted His way and He had it.Subsequently, the aftermath was my faith unconsciously dwindling away, with seeds of doubts gearing its ugly head as to whether i matter to God.
Even though, I , as the building was immature and weak, God as the foundation stone was strong and constant. Through the pain, He revealed to me the internal weaknesses that were inherent in me, which had been obstructing His Grace. Gradually, with this realisation comes the strength to cope with it. I learn that we cannot prevent the birds of sadness from flying over our heads, but we can prevent them from nestling in our hair through divine intervention.
Sometimes pain can do what even joy cannot do, such as exposing the vanity of earth's trifles and filling our heart with longing for the peace in heaven.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Coffee with God
"People are about as happy as they make up their minds to be."
--Abraham Lincoln
A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in their work and lives.
Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite bone china - telling them to help themselves to the coffee. When all the alumni had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said, "Notice that all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.
While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... and then you began eyeing each other's cups."
Now consider this: Life is the coffee. Your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The type of cup one has does not define, nor change the quality of life a person lives. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us.
"The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything."
God brews the coffee, not the cups... Enjoy your coffee!
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Spend time with God over your coffee.
--Abraham Lincoln
A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in their work and lives.
Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite bone china - telling them to help themselves to the coffee. When all the alumni had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said, "Notice that all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.
While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... and then you began eyeing each other's cups."
Now consider this: Life is the coffee. Your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The type of cup one has does not define, nor change the quality of life a person lives. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us.
"The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything."
God brews the coffee, not the cups... Enjoy your coffee!
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Spend time with God over your coffee.
The Lion’s Perspective
I begin this article with a story1 borrowed from another continent, reflecting a shared colonial experience: There was a little boy in an African village. Everyday, he came home from the mission school excited about what he had learnt on that day. But, on one particular day, he came home with a look of puzzlement on his face. His father inquired as to what happened. The little boy said, “Father, I don’t understand this, I go to school everyday and the teacher often tells us the story about this lion who they say is the king of the jungle. However, this ferocious and strong beast always seems to get killed by the hunter in the story. I don’t understand it. If the lion is so strong, why does the hunter always kill the lion?” The father responded, “Well, son, until lions learn how to write books, that’s the way the story will always end.”
The Gutenberg Revolution, which replaced the oral tradition, entered the North Eastern region through the initiative of the early missionaries. Colonisers and Missionaries were among the first outsiders to make sustained contact with the indigenous peoples, and their writings frequently contain accounts of local culture and society, oral tradition etc., which, whatever their deficiencies, have an indispensable documentary value precisely for standing right at the beginning of modern cultural change. Keeping in mind the magnitude of their influence on the present generation’s understanding of their historical past, this write up will critically reassess the missionary writings in North-East India.
As Bickers have rightly put in a different context, uncritically viewing the world through the mission prism can be profoundly misleading.2 The missionaries were foreigners, on the outside, looking in. Even in their most scholarly work, when dispassionate objectivity was a primary goal, factors in their background, education and European perspective would determine not only what they noticed or looked at, but also the way they interpreted or explained what they saw. Questions need to be raised as to why the missionaries were drawn to writing in the first place and how their aims and objectives affected what they reported and how they wrote. Most colonial ethnographies are beset with accounts and descriptions of the missionaries’ encounter with a hostile tribe; the oppositions they faced initially; but how despite the odds, they were eventually able to triumph over them. Likewise, many of their letters were written with the objective of appeasing the home board or the mission that had sponsored them.
One significant limitation of the missionary writings in the case of North East India is the lack of acknowledgement of the local agencies’ contribution in the missionary’s project. Unlike other areas in both Asian and African countries, where the style of proselytisation was one of enforcement of missionary understanding upon the natives’ world-view and life world, we find that in the North-East India, from the very beginning, the expansion of Christianity was indeed a ‘shared enterprise.’ The ‘planting’ of churches in various parts during the nineteenth century could never have been accomplished without the active initiatives of local people, who freely appropriated the Christian message for themselves, and spread that message both within their own societies and beyond. The lack, or almost absence, of any address to native agency in the construction of colonial writings cannot be simply taken as an indication of non-involvement of the native informant. The significant role played by the native interpreter is not difficult to imagine in a region like North East India which is characterised by linguistic and cultural diversity. Besides the early converts and the Lambus (interpreters) who helped in translation works, the native clerks and village chiefs were also involved, as informants, at various points in the codification of customary laws and textualisation of ethnographic works. In fact they were active participants in the process and acted as an indispensable aide to the missionaries. The local people were as much missionaries as those who were officially recognized as missionaries by the missionary societies. They were often the driving force in the work of evangelisation, Bible translation, printing, creating education and health facilities, and building up and providing pastoral care for the community.
Christianity is framed in universal terms, which ideally should override ethnicity, nationality, class, and income. Theoretically, missionary activities might be expected to reflect similarities, regardless of these variables. Yet missionaries often encouraged certain stereotypes about themselves and their work in order to secure recruits. Missionaries demanded that converts reject cultural forms in no way opposed to Christian tenets: traditional dress, grooming, music, diet, and naming.3 Throughout the readings of colonial ethnographies, we find that the discourse on colonialism is populated with stereotypes on the natives as ‘savages’, ‘wild’, ‘untameable’, and ‘heathen tribe’. Were the tribes of these regions ‘nothing’ but marauders and headhunters? Lloyd writes about the capture of Mary Winchester who wrote a full account of her life among the Mizos.4 Mary Winchester was taken captive by the Mizos and lived among them for a year. She was made to live with an old woman whom she grew very fond of. Lloyd writes, ‘It is said that she soon adjusted herself to her new life in the villages, shared in work and play with the other small girls and smoked a pipe as they did.’ Tradition also says that Mary wept bitterly when she was released and taken from the village a year after her capture, and she wrote “...Then I was fetched with grief, I left my friends, and felt far from happy or settled till I had been six months in Elgin.”5 The colonisers description reflects only a one sided view of reality.
As the local people gradually conformed to the proselytising influence of the missionaries, we find the negative opinion about them changing. Sir Herbert Lewis wrote in a letter: “Today these wild raiders are soul winners, no longer the messengers of death; they are messengers of life and peace.”6 These comments were directed at the Mizos who were employed in the task of evangelization. It can be assumed that the commonality shared by the missionaries and the natives through a common belief system, lifestyle in terms of dressing and eating habits, world view and culture could have resulted changing the earlier stereotype given to the native by the former.
The colonial spectre continues to haunt the present day intellectual consciousness even though the colonisers and missionaries departed the region many years ago. In the North East India context, this form of colonisation is still evident in the literatures that are written by the local thinkers. These literatures continue to reproduce the derogatory description that was assigned to them while narrating their history. These writings directly draw from colonial ethnographies or make an interpretative analytical version of their own based on earlier writings. Ashis Nandy’s definition of ‘colonialism’ as a psychological state rooted in earlier forms of social consciousness in both the coloniser and colonised is relevant in understanding this situation. Today, we have a situation in which the lions have started writing, but what is defined as the local or the lion’s perspective is still a virtual or a sense of reality seen through the lens of the colonisers. A new kind of consciousness is needed to free this mindset and change it for a more unrestrained worldview.
The Gutenberg Revolution, which replaced the oral tradition, entered the North Eastern region through the initiative of the early missionaries. Colonisers and Missionaries were among the first outsiders to make sustained contact with the indigenous peoples, and their writings frequently contain accounts of local culture and society, oral tradition etc., which, whatever their deficiencies, have an indispensable documentary value precisely for standing right at the beginning of modern cultural change. Keeping in mind the magnitude of their influence on the present generation’s understanding of their historical past, this write up will critically reassess the missionary writings in North-East India.
As Bickers have rightly put in a different context, uncritically viewing the world through the mission prism can be profoundly misleading.2 The missionaries were foreigners, on the outside, looking in. Even in their most scholarly work, when dispassionate objectivity was a primary goal, factors in their background, education and European perspective would determine not only what they noticed or looked at, but also the way they interpreted or explained what they saw. Questions need to be raised as to why the missionaries were drawn to writing in the first place and how their aims and objectives affected what they reported and how they wrote. Most colonial ethnographies are beset with accounts and descriptions of the missionaries’ encounter with a hostile tribe; the oppositions they faced initially; but how despite the odds, they were eventually able to triumph over them. Likewise, many of their letters were written with the objective of appeasing the home board or the mission that had sponsored them.
One significant limitation of the missionary writings in the case of North East India is the lack of acknowledgement of the local agencies’ contribution in the missionary’s project. Unlike other areas in both Asian and African countries, where the style of proselytisation was one of enforcement of missionary understanding upon the natives’ world-view and life world, we find that in the North-East India, from the very beginning, the expansion of Christianity was indeed a ‘shared enterprise.’ The ‘planting’ of churches in various parts during the nineteenth century could never have been accomplished without the active initiatives of local people, who freely appropriated the Christian message for themselves, and spread that message both within their own societies and beyond. The lack, or almost absence, of any address to native agency in the construction of colonial writings cannot be simply taken as an indication of non-involvement of the native informant. The significant role played by the native interpreter is not difficult to imagine in a region like North East India which is characterised by linguistic and cultural diversity. Besides the early converts and the Lambus (interpreters) who helped in translation works, the native clerks and village chiefs were also involved, as informants, at various points in the codification of customary laws and textualisation of ethnographic works. In fact they were active participants in the process and acted as an indispensable aide to the missionaries. The local people were as much missionaries as those who were officially recognized as missionaries by the missionary societies. They were often the driving force in the work of evangelisation, Bible translation, printing, creating education and health facilities, and building up and providing pastoral care for the community.
Christianity is framed in universal terms, which ideally should override ethnicity, nationality, class, and income. Theoretically, missionary activities might be expected to reflect similarities, regardless of these variables. Yet missionaries often encouraged certain stereotypes about themselves and their work in order to secure recruits. Missionaries demanded that converts reject cultural forms in no way opposed to Christian tenets: traditional dress, grooming, music, diet, and naming.3 Throughout the readings of colonial ethnographies, we find that the discourse on colonialism is populated with stereotypes on the natives as ‘savages’, ‘wild’, ‘untameable’, and ‘heathen tribe’. Were the tribes of these regions ‘nothing’ but marauders and headhunters? Lloyd writes about the capture of Mary Winchester who wrote a full account of her life among the Mizos.4 Mary Winchester was taken captive by the Mizos and lived among them for a year. She was made to live with an old woman whom she grew very fond of. Lloyd writes, ‘It is said that she soon adjusted herself to her new life in the villages, shared in work and play with the other small girls and smoked a pipe as they did.’ Tradition also says that Mary wept bitterly when she was released and taken from the village a year after her capture, and she wrote “...Then I was fetched with grief, I left my friends, and felt far from happy or settled till I had been six months in Elgin.”5 The colonisers description reflects only a one sided view of reality.
As the local people gradually conformed to the proselytising influence of the missionaries, we find the negative opinion about them changing. Sir Herbert Lewis wrote in a letter: “Today these wild raiders are soul winners, no longer the messengers of death; they are messengers of life and peace.”6 These comments were directed at the Mizos who were employed in the task of evangelization. It can be assumed that the commonality shared by the missionaries and the natives through a common belief system, lifestyle in terms of dressing and eating habits, world view and culture could have resulted changing the earlier stereotype given to the native by the former.
The colonial spectre continues to haunt the present day intellectual consciousness even though the colonisers and missionaries departed the region many years ago. In the North East India context, this form of colonisation is still evident in the literatures that are written by the local thinkers. These literatures continue to reproduce the derogatory description that was assigned to them while narrating their history. These writings directly draw from colonial ethnographies or make an interpretative analytical version of their own based on earlier writings. Ashis Nandy’s definition of ‘colonialism’ as a psychological state rooted in earlier forms of social consciousness in both the coloniser and colonised is relevant in understanding this situation. Today, we have a situation in which the lions have started writing, but what is defined as the local or the lion’s perspective is still a virtual or a sense of reality seen through the lens of the colonisers. A new kind of consciousness is needed to free this mindset and change it for a more unrestrained worldview.
The Alabaster Jar
By Sanjeevini and Hoineilhing
My name is Serah. I live together with a group of girls who had come from varied places. Our related strategies of survival compel us to stay together. We are not popular with the society in the light of the day. The daytime glorifies prestige, honour, virtues and chastity of women-- all the qualities that are hypothetically not in us. We are jeered at wherever we go. Nevertheless, at night, far from the spectators of the larger crowd are scenarios quite different. Yes, you must have guessed our profession by now, we are prostitutes and our home is the brothel, a house of ill repute.
I started my line of work as a pimp, supplying jobless women to a client. They were mostly women who were the victims of circumstances, traumatic experiences or poverty. Later, I myself joined the network in the true sense of the term. The events that led me to the brothel are still crystal clear in my mind. It always comes back to haunt me in my thoughts and dreams. Now, I dread staying alone by myself, alone with my thoughts because they are all self-accusatory and filled with regrets of a path wrongly chosen. My family had been heavily indebted and my parents and siblings were sick from lack of nutrition. At this juncture, I turned to a distant cousin for help. She was running an institution that seemed to be running profitably. I was too naïve or troubled to realize the character of her establishment. In time, I was deeply into it.
As I got more and more involved with my work, little did I realize the social order around me distancing from me. For them, I had fulfilled all the characteristics that would qualify me as a deviant and thus, an embarrassment for company. One fine day, my youngest brother had come to visit me. My joy knew no bounds; it was a long time since any member of my family had come to visit me. I was also happy to see him dressed civilly. My sacrifice had paid off. My family was relieved of its debt. I thought, ‘there’s nothing in the world, I wouldn’t do for my family. I love them so much.’ The common room in where we meet was packed with people. Strangely, the people were mostly those I had acquaintance with before-friends, classmates, relatives and some strangers. We were discussing about issues in our family when I noticed my brother sitting at some distance. He never looked at me in the eye for reason unknown. Perhaps, to make it seem to the onlookers that we were just passive acquaintance. I brushed the thought from my mind and held back my tears. A family member stood up and remarked that I must be carrying HIV/Aids and that I deserve it. I stood up and answered defensively that if educated people like him have such a bias view on the disease and its carriers, what will be the state of mind of others. Nevertheless, deep down inside I was broken and terrified, of people, of their attitude, of life and death.
I realised that day that there was no more hope for me. The society I had grown up in was not prepared to accept me back even if I were to reform. Where was all this talk about love and mercy that comprises every religious teaching? Was it not possible to find it in pragmatic form? Was it just a utopia, like a belief in fairy tale or something which you hyped about often, perhaps as escapism from the hard-core realities of life; but something, you should not be so imprudent as to expect to really exist. The most precious possession of a woman is her self-esteem and the love and support of her loved ones. Of God’s creation, what marks us out is that, unlike men, a woman bases her identity in terms of her relationship with others. Her happiness is drawn from the people who surround her. If she has lost all these and has no assurance of getting it back, then she has no sense of optimism or anticipation for the future ,in short she is already half dead.
I woke up and realised that it was all a dream, a nightmare for me but a reality for many. Still baffled and half-asleep, I pondered over the possible implications of my dream. What was it that made me different from them—chances, choices or Grace, that is beyond me to comprehend. However, I do know that if this statement had come from someone like Serah, It would have sounded like a justification for her present state of affairs. Her voices and arguments may be confined within the boundaries of her brothel or worse still it would be restricted in her mind only to satiate her guilt or self-accusation. I am in a much better position to speak out for her, to tell others that it is not entirely her fault, and that God loves her as much and that she deserves a second thought before I label her with stereotypes in order to get along with others. When God does not discriminate (either people or diseases), why should I?
The Gospel records three women that Christ engaged with who had ‘histories’ and ‘reputations’; the women caught in adultery (John 8: 1-11), the women who anoints Jesus found in all the gospels and the Samaritan woman at the well found in John’s Gospel. In narrations like this, we find that Jesus challenges and breaks open boundaries and norms of society: chosen people in comparison with rejected people. Jesus treats each woman as a full human being, worthy to receive God’s grace. Perhaps, these stories are a call to us as a community of Christ to stop shaping life according to society’s definitions of who is acceptable; show some openness to those who are different and even abhorrent and lastly, to cross boundaries instead of constructing them. Maybe this is what the Bible meant when it say“…speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves.”
From the glass alabaster, she poured out the depths of her soul
O foot of Christ, would you wait if her harlotries known?
Falls a tear to darken the dirt
Of humblest offerings to forgive the hurt
She is strong enough to stand in your love.
I can hear her say…I’m weak, I’ m poor, I’m broken Lord but I’m yours…Hold me now, hold me now. Let Him without sin cast the first stone if you will
To say that my bride isn’t worth half the blood that I’ve spilled
Point your finger and laugh if you choose
To say my beloved is borrowed and used (Jennifer Knapp)
My name is Serah. I live together with a group of girls who had come from varied places. Our related strategies of survival compel us to stay together. We are not popular with the society in the light of the day. The daytime glorifies prestige, honour, virtues and chastity of women-- all the qualities that are hypothetically not in us. We are jeered at wherever we go. Nevertheless, at night, far from the spectators of the larger crowd are scenarios quite different. Yes, you must have guessed our profession by now, we are prostitutes and our home is the brothel, a house of ill repute.
I started my line of work as a pimp, supplying jobless women to a client. They were mostly women who were the victims of circumstances, traumatic experiences or poverty. Later, I myself joined the network in the true sense of the term. The events that led me to the brothel are still crystal clear in my mind. It always comes back to haunt me in my thoughts and dreams. Now, I dread staying alone by myself, alone with my thoughts because they are all self-accusatory and filled with regrets of a path wrongly chosen. My family had been heavily indebted and my parents and siblings were sick from lack of nutrition. At this juncture, I turned to a distant cousin for help. She was running an institution that seemed to be running profitably. I was too naïve or troubled to realize the character of her establishment. In time, I was deeply into it.
As I got more and more involved with my work, little did I realize the social order around me distancing from me. For them, I had fulfilled all the characteristics that would qualify me as a deviant and thus, an embarrassment for company. One fine day, my youngest brother had come to visit me. My joy knew no bounds; it was a long time since any member of my family had come to visit me. I was also happy to see him dressed civilly. My sacrifice had paid off. My family was relieved of its debt. I thought, ‘there’s nothing in the world, I wouldn’t do for my family. I love them so much.’ The common room in where we meet was packed with people. Strangely, the people were mostly those I had acquaintance with before-friends, classmates, relatives and some strangers. We were discussing about issues in our family when I noticed my brother sitting at some distance. He never looked at me in the eye for reason unknown. Perhaps, to make it seem to the onlookers that we were just passive acquaintance. I brushed the thought from my mind and held back my tears. A family member stood up and remarked that I must be carrying HIV/Aids and that I deserve it. I stood up and answered defensively that if educated people like him have such a bias view on the disease and its carriers, what will be the state of mind of others. Nevertheless, deep down inside I was broken and terrified, of people, of their attitude, of life and death.
I realised that day that there was no more hope for me. The society I had grown up in was not prepared to accept me back even if I were to reform. Where was all this talk about love and mercy that comprises every religious teaching? Was it not possible to find it in pragmatic form? Was it just a utopia, like a belief in fairy tale or something which you hyped about often, perhaps as escapism from the hard-core realities of life; but something, you should not be so imprudent as to expect to really exist. The most precious possession of a woman is her self-esteem and the love and support of her loved ones. Of God’s creation, what marks us out is that, unlike men, a woman bases her identity in terms of her relationship with others. Her happiness is drawn from the people who surround her. If she has lost all these and has no assurance of getting it back, then she has no sense of optimism or anticipation for the future ,in short she is already half dead.
I woke up and realised that it was all a dream, a nightmare for me but a reality for many. Still baffled and half-asleep, I pondered over the possible implications of my dream. What was it that made me different from them—chances, choices or Grace, that is beyond me to comprehend. However, I do know that if this statement had come from someone like Serah, It would have sounded like a justification for her present state of affairs. Her voices and arguments may be confined within the boundaries of her brothel or worse still it would be restricted in her mind only to satiate her guilt or self-accusation. I am in a much better position to speak out for her, to tell others that it is not entirely her fault, and that God loves her as much and that she deserves a second thought before I label her with stereotypes in order to get along with others. When God does not discriminate (either people or diseases), why should I?
The Gospel records three women that Christ engaged with who had ‘histories’ and ‘reputations’; the women caught in adultery (John 8: 1-11), the women who anoints Jesus found in all the gospels and the Samaritan woman at the well found in John’s Gospel. In narrations like this, we find that Jesus challenges and breaks open boundaries and norms of society: chosen people in comparison with rejected people. Jesus treats each woman as a full human being, worthy to receive God’s grace. Perhaps, these stories are a call to us as a community of Christ to stop shaping life according to society’s definitions of who is acceptable; show some openness to those who are different and even abhorrent and lastly, to cross boundaries instead of constructing them. Maybe this is what the Bible meant when it say“…speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves.”
From the glass alabaster, she poured out the depths of her soul
O foot of Christ, would you wait if her harlotries known?
Falls a tear to darken the dirt
Of humblest offerings to forgive the hurt
She is strong enough to stand in your love.
I can hear her say…I’m weak, I’ m poor, I’m broken Lord but I’m yours…Hold me now, hold me now. Let Him without sin cast the first stone if you will
To say that my bride isn’t worth half the blood that I’ve spilled
Point your finger and laugh if you choose
To say my beloved is borrowed and used (Jennifer Knapp)
Love Letters from Prison
Throughout history, there have always been men and women who emerged victorious of the testings of their times. Like Noah who dared to be different for God, there have always been people who stood against the system that contains them. They were willing to be ‘fools for God’ and were ready to combat any hurdles and persecutions for the callings of God. What is most motivating about them is how they order their private lives in tune with obedience to God; the way they have been able to incorporate God in the choices they made and the centrality of Christ in their relationship with others, even in their love life. In this article, we will learn from the life of one such personality, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
First, a little history about what much of the Christian world considers to be one of the 20th century's best-known and most universally-admired martyrs. Dietrich Bonhoeffer (February 4, 1906 – April 9, 1945) was a German Lutheran Pastor, theologian, participant in the German Resistance movement against Nazism, and a founding member of the Confessing Church. The Confessing Church was a critical response and called for wider church resistance to Hitler and to his treatment of the Jews. In 1939, Bonhoeffer joined a secret group of high-ranking military officers who wanted to overthrow the National Socialist regime by killing Hitler. Bonhoeffer was first arrested in April 1943 and again in July 20, 1944. He was moved to a series of prisons and concentration camps. In Flossenbürg, Bonhoeffer was executed by hanging at dawn on 1945 April 9, just three weeks before the liberation of Berlin and one month before the capitulation of Nazi Germany. He was stripped of clothing in his cell, tortured and ridiculed by the guards and led naked into the execution yard. In the Christian realm, Bonhoeffer had become "Knight of Faith", ready to stand for Jesus when virtually all other Germans, including most theologians of all faiths, were shouting "Hail Hitler”.
The purpose of this piece is to peep into another facet of his life, viz., his love life. During his imprisonment from 1943 to 1945, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wrote many letters from the Nazi prison camp to his young fiancée, Maria von Wedemeycr. These letters demonstrates the affection and solidarity that accompanied Bonhoeffer to his prison cell, concentration camp, and eventual death. It presented a new aspect of Bonhoeffer, showing him to be surprisingly passionate, but in a way altogether consistent with his theology of costly grace. Interestingly, the letters reveal not Bonhoeffer the theologian but of Bonhoeffer as someone deeply in love.
The friendship of Maria and Bonhoeffer blossomed into romance in 1942. "The rapport," she remembers, "was immediate. He was able to transform the fumblings and erratic emotions of a young girl into the assured certainty that this was an addition and a source of strength to his own life." However, after a short while after their engagement, he was arrested.
In the prison, Bonhoeffer was allowed to receive visits by Maria, who took him books, laundry and food. She tirelessly addressed Bonhoeffcr's every conceivable want or need. She once arrived lugging a huge Christmas tree, causing considerable laughter among the guards. Bonhoeffer remarked that maybe if he moved his cot out of his cell and stood up for the Christmas season he could accommodate the tree comfortably. Bonhoeffer wrote, "In front of me, lit by your candles," he wrote to her, "stands the little Madonna you gave me. … Behind it arc the open texts with the praying hands' [you gave me] … on their right, your photos lying open in the case you made for me. Just above them hangs your Advent wreath, and behind me on the edge of the bed, I have laid out the gloves you made for me, the books you chose for me. … On my wrist is the watch [your] Father was wearing when he died, which you gave me, brought me, and strapped on my wrist yourself. You're all around me' Maria."
His letters to her, often smuggled out by a sympathetic guard, contain several impressive statements of his Christian conviction. On 1943, he wrote, “When I also think about the situation of the world, the complete darkness over our personal fate and my present imprisonment, then I believe that our union can only be a sign of God’s grace and kindness, which calls us to faith. We would be blind if we did not see it. Jeremiah says at the moment of his people great need, “still one shall buy houses and acres in this land” as a sign of trust in the future. This is where faith belongs. May God give it to us daily! In addition, I do not mean the faith that flees the world, but the one that endures the world and which loves and remain true to the world in spite of all the suffering that it contains for us. Our marriage shall be a yes to God’s earth; it shall strengthen our courage to act and accomplish something on the earth.” In another letter, he wrote, "No evil can befall us: whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives.” Although suspected of treason, Bonhoeffer retained the hope that he would eventually be freed and encouraged Maria to plan for their marriage. Marie wrote in her diary, "He enjoyed talking about details of our wedding; he had chosen the 103rd Psalm as the text."
Over time, their correspondence became more tortured and Hope faded. As the prospect of freedom dimmed, Bonhoeffer suffered moments of discouragement. "Slowly it gets to be a waiting whose outward sense I cannot comprehend," he wrote to Maria, "Your life would have been quite different, easier, clearer, simpler, had not our paths crossed." To these letters, Marie replied, "Don't get tired and depressed, my dearest Dietrich, it won't be much longer now." They tried to retain a sense of optimism through the years of hoping and waiting and comfort each other through the worst. Nevertheless, the majority of his letters reflected overwhelming courage and inflexible faith. A fellow prisoner recalled that Bonhoeffer was never tired of repeating that 'no battle is lost until it has been given up for lost.’ In his last message to Maria, written at Christmas time, 1944, he said, "What is happiness? It depends so little on the circumstances; it depends really only on that which happens inside a person."
Bonhoeffer's life and faith have something very important to say today. Maria's hand, like everything else in his short life, remained just beyond his reach. Even so, he could write to her, “Above all let us be careful not to feel sorry for ourselves; to do so would truly be a blasphemy on God, who means us well. For all our difficulties, let us say with Isaiah, 'Do not destroy it, for there is blessing in it.” Unto his death, he stood by his conviction, “I believe that nothing meaningless has happened to me and also that it is good for us when things run counter to our desires. I see a purpose in my present existence and only hope that i fulfil it.” He kept seeing God as a constant source of courage and inspiration amid trials and joy alike. His happiness was not tied by circumstances but to Christ.
It will benefit us greatly to learn from the experiences of men and women who are giants of God in terms of their faith and spirituality.
First, a little history about what much of the Christian world considers to be one of the 20th century's best-known and most universally-admired martyrs. Dietrich Bonhoeffer (February 4, 1906 – April 9, 1945) was a German Lutheran Pastor, theologian, participant in the German Resistance movement against Nazism, and a founding member of the Confessing Church. The Confessing Church was a critical response and called for wider church resistance to Hitler and to his treatment of the Jews. In 1939, Bonhoeffer joined a secret group of high-ranking military officers who wanted to overthrow the National Socialist regime by killing Hitler. Bonhoeffer was first arrested in April 1943 and again in July 20, 1944. He was moved to a series of prisons and concentration camps. In Flossenbürg, Bonhoeffer was executed by hanging at dawn on 1945 April 9, just three weeks before the liberation of Berlin and one month before the capitulation of Nazi Germany. He was stripped of clothing in his cell, tortured and ridiculed by the guards and led naked into the execution yard. In the Christian realm, Bonhoeffer had become "Knight of Faith", ready to stand for Jesus when virtually all other Germans, including most theologians of all faiths, were shouting "Hail Hitler”.
The purpose of this piece is to peep into another facet of his life, viz., his love life. During his imprisonment from 1943 to 1945, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wrote many letters from the Nazi prison camp to his young fiancée, Maria von Wedemeycr. These letters demonstrates the affection and solidarity that accompanied Bonhoeffer to his prison cell, concentration camp, and eventual death. It presented a new aspect of Bonhoeffer, showing him to be surprisingly passionate, but in a way altogether consistent with his theology of costly grace. Interestingly, the letters reveal not Bonhoeffer the theologian but of Bonhoeffer as someone deeply in love.
The friendship of Maria and Bonhoeffer blossomed into romance in 1942. "The rapport," she remembers, "was immediate. He was able to transform the fumblings and erratic emotions of a young girl into the assured certainty that this was an addition and a source of strength to his own life." However, after a short while after their engagement, he was arrested.
In the prison, Bonhoeffer was allowed to receive visits by Maria, who took him books, laundry and food. She tirelessly addressed Bonhoeffcr's every conceivable want or need. She once arrived lugging a huge Christmas tree, causing considerable laughter among the guards. Bonhoeffer remarked that maybe if he moved his cot out of his cell and stood up for the Christmas season he could accommodate the tree comfortably. Bonhoeffer wrote, "In front of me, lit by your candles," he wrote to her, "stands the little Madonna you gave me. … Behind it arc the open texts with the praying hands' [you gave me] … on their right, your photos lying open in the case you made for me. Just above them hangs your Advent wreath, and behind me on the edge of the bed, I have laid out the gloves you made for me, the books you chose for me. … On my wrist is the watch [your] Father was wearing when he died, which you gave me, brought me, and strapped on my wrist yourself. You're all around me' Maria."
His letters to her, often smuggled out by a sympathetic guard, contain several impressive statements of his Christian conviction. On 1943, he wrote, “When I also think about the situation of the world, the complete darkness over our personal fate and my present imprisonment, then I believe that our union can only be a sign of God’s grace and kindness, which calls us to faith. We would be blind if we did not see it. Jeremiah says at the moment of his people great need, “still one shall buy houses and acres in this land” as a sign of trust in the future. This is where faith belongs. May God give it to us daily! In addition, I do not mean the faith that flees the world, but the one that endures the world and which loves and remain true to the world in spite of all the suffering that it contains for us. Our marriage shall be a yes to God’s earth; it shall strengthen our courage to act and accomplish something on the earth.” In another letter, he wrote, "No evil can befall us: whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives.” Although suspected of treason, Bonhoeffer retained the hope that he would eventually be freed and encouraged Maria to plan for their marriage. Marie wrote in her diary, "He enjoyed talking about details of our wedding; he had chosen the 103rd Psalm as the text."
Over time, their correspondence became more tortured and Hope faded. As the prospect of freedom dimmed, Bonhoeffer suffered moments of discouragement. "Slowly it gets to be a waiting whose outward sense I cannot comprehend," he wrote to Maria, "Your life would have been quite different, easier, clearer, simpler, had not our paths crossed." To these letters, Marie replied, "Don't get tired and depressed, my dearest Dietrich, it won't be much longer now." They tried to retain a sense of optimism through the years of hoping and waiting and comfort each other through the worst. Nevertheless, the majority of his letters reflected overwhelming courage and inflexible faith. A fellow prisoner recalled that Bonhoeffer was never tired of repeating that 'no battle is lost until it has been given up for lost.’ In his last message to Maria, written at Christmas time, 1944, he said, "What is happiness? It depends so little on the circumstances; it depends really only on that which happens inside a person."
Bonhoeffer's life and faith have something very important to say today. Maria's hand, like everything else in his short life, remained just beyond his reach. Even so, he could write to her, “Above all let us be careful not to feel sorry for ourselves; to do so would truly be a blasphemy on God, who means us well. For all our difficulties, let us say with Isaiah, 'Do not destroy it, for there is blessing in it.” Unto his death, he stood by his conviction, “I believe that nothing meaningless has happened to me and also that it is good for us when things run counter to our desires. I see a purpose in my present existence and only hope that i fulfil it.” He kept seeing God as a constant source of courage and inspiration amid trials and joy alike. His happiness was not tied by circumstances but to Christ.
It will benefit us greatly to learn from the experiences of men and women who are giants of God in terms of their faith and spirituality.
Pilgrims Progress-By Hoineilhing Sitlhou
Written for 'Aroma' (KWS-Delhi Monthly Magazine) two years ago
As we walk along life’s path, every bend in the road, brings us to new sights, new people and new encounters. God has a marvelous way of making use of each and every of these elements to teach us new lessons. This seems to indicate that no objects, incidents or mortal escaped His surveillance. This is reasonable if we take into consideration the fact that every thing was created at His bidding and for His purpose. Now and again we realized too late the warning signs or fail to understand representational meaning that are relative to our problems that could well have become the solutions. Very often the pending messages are due to either our over-estimation of selves or under estimation of the chosen messenger. Perhaps it may be that it takes time and experiences to Master His mysterious ways of communicating to us.
Allow me to substantiate my argument through my life size experiential reality. The topic in one of our Sunday school class was on the subject ‘prayer’. Accordingly the students were asked to narrate the manner in which they conduct their daily prayer. One boy statement was extremely funny. He said that he prays regularly three times a day, but never realize what he actually says. I muse over the event for a long time and recount the incident to every one who could lend me a ear. I never realized the impact it was to have upon my life at a later stage.
Depression appears to be an indispensable stage in every student’s career history and I am not spared of it. In one such forethought, I was contemplating over the enigma of life and my struggles that have every chances of becoming futile; giving it all up stands out as an appealing option. It was then that the episode about the small boy resurfaces to my mind. Frequently, I get worried about matters of daily existence and problems that are beyond me. In this way I undermine the faithfulness of God that He who had delivered me in the past was capable of doing the same or still greater things in the future. My fickle minded attitude reminds me of the Israelites persistent complains to Moses even as they were the fortunate witness to the raw and spontaneous mighty works of God.
1 king 8; 56 says
Blessed be the LORD, that hath given rest unto his people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed one word of all his good promise, which he promised by the hand of Moses his servant.
This verse testifies the consistency of God in carrying out His promises to the Israelites through His servant Moses. Still it fails to seep into the consciousness of the people because they had taken events and phenomena’s around them for granted. They hardened their heart and wits against God. Perhaps they did not take the time to sit down and ponder upon the words and works of God, which they consider to be the duty of prophets and priests.
Coming back to the present, I liken my situation to that of the Israelites in Moses time and in a way the boy who did not realize his petition to God. On my part I did not fully realize (and will never really be able to really comprehend) the greatness of the God I was worshipping. He is the powerful force behind the movement of the universe, the beginning and the end (alpha and omega), the merciful God whose astuteness is unsearchable; in sort He is the only one in the history of mankind who could blends the unique combination of meekness and majesty. Every new day is a blessing because they are chances to reconcile and learn more of His Greatness. A special recipe for those of you, who are having their pre- exam blues, is to take time to reflect on the enormity of the God you are praying to. May God grant you success in all your endeavors!
As we walk along life’s path, every bend in the road, brings us to new sights, new people and new encounters. God has a marvelous way of making use of each and every of these elements to teach us new lessons. This seems to indicate that no objects, incidents or mortal escaped His surveillance. This is reasonable if we take into consideration the fact that every thing was created at His bidding and for His purpose. Now and again we realized too late the warning signs or fail to understand representational meaning that are relative to our problems that could well have become the solutions. Very often the pending messages are due to either our over-estimation of selves or under estimation of the chosen messenger. Perhaps it may be that it takes time and experiences to Master His mysterious ways of communicating to us.
Allow me to substantiate my argument through my life size experiential reality. The topic in one of our Sunday school class was on the subject ‘prayer’. Accordingly the students were asked to narrate the manner in which they conduct their daily prayer. One boy statement was extremely funny. He said that he prays regularly three times a day, but never realize what he actually says. I muse over the event for a long time and recount the incident to every one who could lend me a ear. I never realized the impact it was to have upon my life at a later stage.
Depression appears to be an indispensable stage in every student’s career history and I am not spared of it. In one such forethought, I was contemplating over the enigma of life and my struggles that have every chances of becoming futile; giving it all up stands out as an appealing option. It was then that the episode about the small boy resurfaces to my mind. Frequently, I get worried about matters of daily existence and problems that are beyond me. In this way I undermine the faithfulness of God that He who had delivered me in the past was capable of doing the same or still greater things in the future. My fickle minded attitude reminds me of the Israelites persistent complains to Moses even as they were the fortunate witness to the raw and spontaneous mighty works of God.
1 king 8; 56 says
Blessed be the LORD, that hath given rest unto his people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed one word of all his good promise, which he promised by the hand of Moses his servant.
This verse testifies the consistency of God in carrying out His promises to the Israelites through His servant Moses. Still it fails to seep into the consciousness of the people because they had taken events and phenomena’s around them for granted. They hardened their heart and wits against God. Perhaps they did not take the time to sit down and ponder upon the words and works of God, which they consider to be the duty of prophets and priests.
Coming back to the present, I liken my situation to that of the Israelites in Moses time and in a way the boy who did not realize his petition to God. On my part I did not fully realize (and will never really be able to really comprehend) the greatness of the God I was worshipping. He is the powerful force behind the movement of the universe, the beginning and the end (alpha and omega), the merciful God whose astuteness is unsearchable; in sort He is the only one in the history of mankind who could blends the unique combination of meekness and majesty. Every new day is a blessing because they are chances to reconcile and learn more of His Greatness. A special recipe for those of you, who are having their pre- exam blues, is to take time to reflect on the enormity of the God you are praying to. May God grant you success in all your endeavors!
The Right Turn
BY HOINEILHING SITLHOU
The two contradictory axioms that used to confuse me greatly were that; there is no limit to what a person can do; and it’s wise for a person to work within his or her potentialities. If you ask me now, I can tell you very cautiously that you will learn more about a road by travelling it rather than consulting all the maps in the world. In life, often when you reach for the stars, you might not quite get one. In fact, sometimes it’s the exact opposite. Failure can be like an arrow shot into the heart of hope and aspiration. It can be frustrating, debilitating and humiliating when something you invest so much upon does not get the desired outcome. Worst still, people around will measure scales on you stating that your result was incommensurate to your labour.
A light hearted survey in our students’ community seems to indicate that we shy away from the lifestyles that would brand us as industrious or studious. Sometimes it’s baffling as to why we came here in the first place. Perhaps we want to be someone who is successful without too much of hard work. In short, a person who got more than what he or she bargained for. Personally, I would not be the ideal specimen to diagnose this ailment, which I myself am afflicted, but an expert would have possibly construed this as a lack of maturity to face life, or an irrational fear aligned with success.
The context reminds me of the commentary on the temptation of Jesus made by a writer of the name Philip Yancey. Looking back on the three temptations of Jesus, we see that Satan proposed an enticing improvement. He tempted Jesus towards the good part of being human without the bad; to savour the taste of bread without being subjected to the fixed rules of hunger and of agriculture; to confront risk with no real danger; to enjoy fame and power without the prospect of painful rejection - in short, to wear a crown but not a cross, the temptation that Jesus resisted, many of us, His followers, still long for today.
Thomas Alva Edition, the great scientist stated, “genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration”. It is also interesting to note that the ratio between hard work and luck is 70:30. Therefore, it would be wise to make hard work a daily habit, instead of lying supinely and waiting for chance to fall in your lap. Our mind is like an acre of land. You have to sow it (with ideas), till it (with readings), fertilize it (with meaningful discussion with counterparts), pesticide it (prevent it from becoming inanimate) to get the best crop of result from it.
May God grant you the wisdom to take all the right turns, on your way!
The two contradictory axioms that used to confuse me greatly were that; there is no limit to what a person can do; and it’s wise for a person to work within his or her potentialities. If you ask me now, I can tell you very cautiously that you will learn more about a road by travelling it rather than consulting all the maps in the world. In life, often when you reach for the stars, you might not quite get one. In fact, sometimes it’s the exact opposite. Failure can be like an arrow shot into the heart of hope and aspiration. It can be frustrating, debilitating and humiliating when something you invest so much upon does not get the desired outcome. Worst still, people around will measure scales on you stating that your result was incommensurate to your labour.
A light hearted survey in our students’ community seems to indicate that we shy away from the lifestyles that would brand us as industrious or studious. Sometimes it’s baffling as to why we came here in the first place. Perhaps we want to be someone who is successful without too much of hard work. In short, a person who got more than what he or she bargained for. Personally, I would not be the ideal specimen to diagnose this ailment, which I myself am afflicted, but an expert would have possibly construed this as a lack of maturity to face life, or an irrational fear aligned with success.
The context reminds me of the commentary on the temptation of Jesus made by a writer of the name Philip Yancey. Looking back on the three temptations of Jesus, we see that Satan proposed an enticing improvement. He tempted Jesus towards the good part of being human without the bad; to savour the taste of bread without being subjected to the fixed rules of hunger and of agriculture; to confront risk with no real danger; to enjoy fame and power without the prospect of painful rejection - in short, to wear a crown but not a cross, the temptation that Jesus resisted, many of us, His followers, still long for today.
Thomas Alva Edition, the great scientist stated, “genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration”. It is also interesting to note that the ratio between hard work and luck is 70:30. Therefore, it would be wise to make hard work a daily habit, instead of lying supinely and waiting for chance to fall in your lap. Our mind is like an acre of land. You have to sow it (with ideas), till it (with readings), fertilize it (with meaningful discussion with counterparts), pesticide it (prevent it from becoming inanimate) to get the best crop of result from it.
May God grant you the wisdom to take all the right turns, on your way!
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