Benji Mast’s Photoblog

“All you do is laugh, laugh, laugh. I speak and work and laugh, but whenever I speak English, you laugh, laugh, laugh.” Surinu defends himself.

Promod laughs again.

Thomas says, “You can speak with Benji and get better English.”

“Okay,” Surinu quips, “I will say whatever you want me to say. What do you want me to say?”

Pause

“Thomas, you are very smart boy.” Surinu says in a deadpan

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Promod and Thomas have been giving Surinu a hard time about his English all night. Every time he says something, they laugh. I cannot help but chuckle at their banter, humorous mostly because of their accents.

We are all sitting on a small living room floor and miscellaneous vegetables and herbs are being prepared for the big meal tomorrow after the service. The floor is our counter-top and a rice mat our table cloth, we are slicing and laughing together, and convenience always seems to trump hygiene. It is an all-male group of my best Indian friends, along with some new faces.

At about nine-thirty a meal is served, of rice and curry. I walk into the small kitchen to quickly wash my hands but the light doesn’t work, and apparently soap isn’t considered an essential part of the equation. So the quick wash becomes quick rinse and I sit down on the floor eager to prove that I am practically a native.

“Benji, you can eat this soup that Becca made for you.” Sam offers kindly, “That curry might be a little bit too hot.”

Not this man. I even push aside the spoon offered me and dig in with my hands. My self-satisfaction with my ability to fit in, was dampened a bit by their chuckles at the way I was eating, the mess I was making on the floor, and the rapid build-up and release of fluid out of my eyes and nose, due to the spiciness of the curry.

Their conversation around the food is being carried in Teligu. In the middle of it Sam interprets, “Jimmy likes you (Benji) and wants you to stay here.”

I am so blessed.

At about 11:00, Vinca’s beautiful wife, Grace, brings out a platter loaded with small tin cups of black tea with plenty of sugar, for all of us. As I sip the wonderful tea I reflect on these young men, most of whom are between 19 and 25. They are the future of Good Life Ministries. They are willing servants beyond reason*. They have followed Christ at enormous cost. For most of them it meant a severance of any friendly relationship with their family. I then see the truth of Christ’s words that a man cannot truly follow him except he hate his (family)… I find it difficult to convince myself that I would be able to make such a choice.

The more first-generation Christians I meet, the more I realize that, by far the hardest part of following the written Word, is not understanding it, but obeying it. We have so much training and teaching in the States but it seems like there is more victory, passion, and humility among some of the wonderful people I have met in Asia.

*human reason; not scripture