While the church has been growing by leaps and bounds, the persecution to try to stop it has increased dramatically. Just recently, in one northern state, nearly 90 pastors were arrested for converting people to Christianity. The police would break into their homes in the middle of the night, catching them when they were away from their congregations and trying to instill as much fear as they could. With wives and children screaming and terrified, these men were torn from their families and placed in jail to await trial. If found guilty, they face 7-10 years in prison.
Another thing the government is doing is cutting off the ability of ministries to receive foreign funds. Just recently, one of the largest Christian organizations in the country (CNI church) had the ability to receive foreign funds stripped from them. The government is trying to financially choke ministries and has threatened to confiscate their property as well.
The persecution has become very intense, but in the middle of it the believers are showing great courage and faith. They are uniting stronger than ever before, taking care of the families of the pastors who have been arrested, praying together, and encouraging one another to stay strong. They continue to preach the gospel fearlessly, fully prepared to pay the price of being beaten or imprisoned. Some have already given their very lives for Jesus Christ.
These men and women need your prayers and support now more than ever. We must continually reach out to them in any way possible to let them know they are not alone. We must be faithful to fight for them through prayer and giving to support families that have lost their husbands and fathers to persecution.
As most of you know, during my last trip to India in June, I was in an accident. I was on the back of a motorcycle high in the Himalayas when we lost control and slammed into the side of an oncoming truck. My driver, a recent ISOM graduate with a heart to start a work in this very unreached region, had three breaks in his right leg and I had two breaks in my right femur.
In the middle of all the pain, chaos of hospitals, ambulances, and surgeons during the next several days, what stood out the most to me was the love of my Indian friends. At great hardship to themselves, they covered me, protected me, and got me the best help possible every step of the way, often staying with me night and day. One dear brother held my blood transfusion against his chest trying to warm it up for me. Another went to a metal shop to have a brace made for my leg so I could travel in the ambulance.
Three weeks after my accident I was able to stand long enough to preach at an ISOM graduation in North India. It was a wonderful time as I spoke on “I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.” Philippians 2:10
Then, as I sat in bed recovering in North India, I looked out the window and the storms came. And they kept coming. Streets became rivers, cars began floating away, landslides washed out highways and huge buildings came sliding down the sides of the mountains…and the rain kept coming. All five of the main rivers in the north were at flood stage. Dams were opened to release the overflow that brought even more destruction to the towns down river. Once again, I listened to the prophecy and watched it being fulfilled before my eyes.
“I am a little angry with you,” she said. Her voice was low and soft but the look in her eyes told me she was very serious. I sat across from my new friend, the wife of the Anglican priest whom I had stopped in to visit. I had no idea why God had me stop by and visit this man each time I came to his city. We had nothing in common. He was a highly educated priest of a wealthy and highly formal church while I was an American Pentecostal preacher. But, each time I came God would make me knock on his door and have an awkward conversation as we sipped chai.