Entering the Lion's Mouth: Encounters in Orissa

The following post is an account of the stories Pastor Israel shared with me about his recent trip to Orissa. Please continue to keep the people of Orissa in your prayers.

It all started with a prayer. Israel had been capturing glimpses of the horrific persecution going on in Orissa through scattered media reports, but it wasn’t until he started praying that an intense burden for the victimized began to develop in his heart.

Israel’s burden for the Christian victims in Orissa continued to grow until one evening, while evangelizing in Nepal, he received a phone call from his brother, Billy. Billy, on an annual fundraising trip in the US, had been sharing the news of Orissa with American churches—churches that ultimately wanted to know more. General media only revealed small shards of information, evading the harsh reality of the persecution situation. In attempts to seek the truth, Billy asked Israel to go—to investigate the Orissa situation firsthand.

Willing to go, but also fearful of the looming threats and potential danger for Christians in Orissa, Israel considered the situation in prayer. Feeling God’s calling, he cancelled his ticket home from Nepal and trekked his way to Orissa—one bus to the next—until he arrived two days later in Andhra Pradesh, a state bordering the west side of Orissa.

Israel was just steps from Orissa, but with no knowledge of the Oriya language. An answer to prayer, Pastor Jacjeevan from Andhra Pradesh decided to join Israel. Jacjeeven had already visited the aftermath of the persecution more than once. Together, they crossed the state borderline and entered Padalachamathi. Padalachamathi, they found out, was the same city that sixty Christians had fled to just days earlier after the burning of their homes in Kandamahl district. A local pastor took Israel and Jacjeevan with him to distribute new Bibles to this group of people who had so recently lost everything.

“When asked if there was anything they needed,” Israel said, tears welling, “all they wanted was Bibles. That was it. They didn’t even mention the ‘bare necessities’ like blankets or food. Getting the word of God back into their hands was their first priority.” As Israel and the other pastors handed out the new Bibles, people held them close to their chests recognizing their precious value. Thrilled words were shouted back and forth—even the children were hugging and gripping their new Bibles with wide smiles. “I couldn’t understand a word they were saying,” Israel mentioned, “but I was so powerfully moved by their excitement over the word of God.”

Just before leaving, Israel had the opportunity to pray for the crowd—a crowd that had lost everything they physically owned and yet received so much more through the gift of their new Bibles. After praying, Israel shared, “In your time of need, since you gave priority to God’s word, He will never leave you…He is your provider.” What Israel didn’t share was that his brother had just called from the states informing him of a church body that had donated money for the very purpose of supporting Christians in need in Orissa. Without saying a word, Israel and the other pastors left. That evening, they bought unlimited supplies to bless the sixty, now-homeless believers with. After filling a truck with tarps, blankets, mosquito repellent candles, vegetables, biscuits, and three hundred kilograms of rice, they traveled back to the same area. With enthusiasm, they were able to deliver the unexpected “gifts of provision” to all sixty people—people overwhelmed with thankfulness.

After such a touching encounter, visiting the next village proved to be a tremendous challenge. This village wasn’t filled with smiling faces—it was relatively empty. Deserted. The houses were dilapidated— burnt to the ground in piles of cinder and ash, only the remnants of their frames standing. Out of the mass of blackness, a tarp stood, fixated within a burnt housing frame. Underneath the tarp, a family was living—rebuilding their life with very little to survive on. Israel and Jacjeevan approached the family who began to tell them the story of the village’s attack.

The village had been aggressively burnt to the ground during broad daylight by around five hundred Hindu radicals. First, the Hindus scouted out the pastor’s home, attempting to kill him on the spot. Miraculously, the pastor was able to escape and run into hiding. After the pastor fled, the radicals targeted at their next priority—the destruction of the local church. With petrol, firewood, and a bomb blast, the church was completely destroyed. After the church burning came the village burning.

“We lost everything,” a concerned mother told Israel. “My son just graduated from college—now his diploma and everything representing his education is gone.” Everything was gone. Not a house was left standing. Every cross and representation of Jesus was utterly destroyed. Amongst the wreckage, Israel stood powerfully moved. “For what reason are they doing this; it makes no sense!” he kept questioning, overwhelmingly frustrated with the outcome of rubble he was staring at. “Every person killed or hurt was innocent…all were innocent!”

Empathizing with the hopelessness this village must have felt, Israel was fighting back tears. While leaving the village, he met a young man who, despite the loss of his home, had a genuine hope to one day attend a Bible college. An enthusiastic desire to minister exuded from him—even after all the turmoil. This boy’s profound passion for the gospel was a spark of hope in the middle of a crushed pile of rubble and looming despair.

With a heavy heart and an overwhelmingly burdened mind, Israel and Jacjeeven continued another fifteen kilometers to see yet another village—destroyed even beyond the last. The only way to this village was through a very narrow road, dodging trees and road obstacles to reach the entrance. Beyond the inaccessibility, it was also an extremely dangerous area. A predominately Hindu village stood just behind the remains of this village, and if Israel or any of the other pastors were seen—they would be questioned and their lives would be at risk.

At the village entrance, a Believer met Israel and Jacjeeven, taking them on a very quick walk through the rubble. They roamed through a literal ghost town, previously home to over forty families.

The local believer led Israel and Jacjeeven to the entrance of the church, now wrecked and smashed in on all four sides—a pile of burnt bicycle parts and unidentifiable blackened objects lining the church’s exterior. As the three men rummaged through the remains, they found remnants of human bones scattered—their white color standing starkly against the black ash.

The believer began to share the tragic truth behind the bones. Hindu radicals had come to attack the village late in the night. In their rage, they locked a family of four inside their home. The innocent family was cornered and the radicals threatened to burn the father in front of everyone in the house. Before they began, they shot the father in his lower back, the bullet traveling through him and into the mother’s hand. A second bullet was directly aimed at her. The daughter was cornered and lost one of her limbs to the Hindu radical’s machetes. The only family member left untouched was the son. Crying and screaming, the entire family watched their father as he was tied up and doused in gasoline, then burnt alive. The bone remnants in the pile of outstanding ash were all that remained of this man’s martyrdom.

Israel and the other pastors gripped pieces of bone in their hands and, with tears, remembered the heroic faith of the martyred father. Just minutes later, they had to flee out of safety. On the road again, they were headed to a relief camp for displaced Christians.

At the relief camp, cooking fires struggled to keep a-flame while pelted with heavy rains. Crowds huddled under limited tarps—coverings replacing their homes for the time being. When Israel explained he was from Tamil Nadu and visiting to be a source of encouragement, many of the refugees began to openly cry. “You are the only people who have come to visit us,” they shared. They expressed their deep gratitude and thankfulness towards the visiting pastors. One refugee shared how they had been running for safety for three days in the nearby jungles without food or water. Returning to their villages was just too dangerous. Hindus awaited them, ready with threats to forcefully convert. Even the children couldn’t return to their schools without being beaten for refusing to convert to Hinduism. Some of the elderly members in the camp were frail beyond fixation—ready to die from their lack of food and water. One older woman sat, squatting on the floor, hands clasping her ears and a look of horror painted on her face. She was literally going crazy from fear. Fear prevailed throughout the refugee camp. Hundreds of homeless people living in the memories of the horrors so recently endured.

Upon visiting a second relief camp, Israel met the son of the martyred man whose very bones he had held in his hands. In his early twenties, the young man’s eyes were reddened with lack of sleep. He shared how incessant nightmares were plaguing him at night and visions of terror followed him throughout the day. Traumatized, he asked for prayer. Israel prayed, fighting as hard as he could to hold back tears as not to provoke more tears from the helpless young man.

Immediately after leaving the relief camp, Israel and the other two pastors cried together for hours. Weeping, their prayers were beyond words—groaning was the only expression that escaped their mouths in that moment. That night, Israel couldn’t sleep—visions of bones and the burning body of the young boy’s father plagued his imagination.

Every village and relief camp the three pastors had visited were in Gajapathi district—they hadn’t even entered the epicenter of destruction and violence, Kandamahl district. Filled with fear, Israel was ready to turn around. But something kept him moving forward.

Just before entering Kandamahl, they returned to Padalachamathi for an afternoon to meet with a man who had requested to see Israel. Assuming this man was a Christian man interested in God’s work, Israel went alone to his house. Upon arrival, the man pelted Israel with several ministry questions. An uneasy feeling began to grow in Israel’s stomach. Soon, the man revealed he was a Hindu. Israel said that within minutes the man was raging with anger and screaming, he locked Israel inside his home. Israel winced in response to the outrage, then began to think of the immediate danger he was in. The man began to drill Israel with questions, “Why are you here? Why are you going to Kandamahl? Haven’t you heard what is happening to pastors there? Do you want the same to happen to you now?” He proceeded to threaten to kill Israel. Somehow, in his fear, Israel experienced a moment of peace. “Jesus”, he prayed, “it’s all up to you…you do what you want. I have no control.” After praying, Israel was flooded with peace. That very moment, the Hindu man’s wife pulled him aside and started begging him to let Israel free. Convinced by her words, he opened the door in an impulsive moment and told Israel to leave immediately. The Hindu man’s wife yelled after Israel, telling him to run.

Israel took off in a sprint. After running about one hundred feet, the Hindu man was filled with a second wave of anger and began chasing him. Israel ran through the streets, dodging back and forth through different alleys in a thick sweat. He could hear the Hindu man screaming, making a dangerous scene and threatening to have other friends join him in Israel’s “hunt”. Israel continued to run, even faster, until he completely lost the Hindu man. Looking around, he had no idea where he was. Struggling to make his way back to the other pastors, Israel’s imagination played tricks on his mind. Every face he passed looked like an enemy. Head down, he continued to track his way back to familiarity. In those fear-filled moments, Israel was able to empathize with the terror that so many other Christians were presently facing all over the state of Orissa.

After the narrow escape in Padalachamathi, Israel and Jacjeeven prepared to enter Kandamahl. Israel thought to himself, “After all we’ve seen…we are foolish to continue in to Kandamahl. We are entering the very mouth of the lion!”

As soon as they crossed into Kandamahl, a threatening, frightening atmosphere was present. The area was torn apart. Forests were cleared and trees lay toppled into the roadside, cut down for the purpose of creating roadblocks to trap Christians in their very villages in order to successfully destroy them completely.

Traveling into a local pastor’s village, they greeted the pastor in a pile of burnt ash. Every home in his village was destroyed. After living in the jungle for nearly a week, the pastor was now residing separately from his family for increased safety. Israel asked him how he felt and how his faith was enduring in the midst of the horrific trials. With a wide, unexpected smile he replied, “I lost everything, but I have the love of Jesus in my heart…and that’s all I need. I am stronger than ever before to serve God. I still follow Him and believe He is good. I’ll never turn away.”

Surveying the situation, Israel and Jacjeeven were burdened to help provide the pastor’s village with relief supplies. Some of the villagers had been living in the same clothing since the attacks. The pastor was moved, but mentioned the dangers of their intervention. He took a sum of money instead and promised to pass relief supplies on to his congregation.

Before leaving Kandamahl, Israel and Jacjeeven were stopped in a nearby city and forced to find a place to stay for the evening. Checking into a hotel, the suspicious desk worker began questioning Israel. Jacjeeven told the desk attendant that Israel was his brother and they were just “passing through”. That night, they stayed in a room sharing a wall with a group of rowdy Hindu radicals discussing their plans of destruction. Praying until they fell asleep, Israel and Jacjeeven left the hotel quickly at the break of dawn. That afternoon, they heard that two hundred Christian homes were burnt to the ground just after their departure.

Israel swallowed the news with horror as he traveled back to his home in Tamil Nadu. He recounted the glimpses of hope seen in believers—hope after losing everything, hope rising from piles of ash, hope that can only come from a gracious God of new beginnings. Simultaneously, thoughts of Christians being overwhelmed with paralyzing fear, trapped in their very homes filled his head. Memories of terrified faces stood sharply in his mind. Reminders that the battle in Orissa is not over. Reminders to act and to pray.