A Day in the Light

Join an oral Bible storyteller as she shares God’s Word in her Southwest Asian community

Dawn

Morning comes early in the village. At 4am, two neighbourhood mosques broadcast overlapping calls to prayer. Soon, roosters crow, goats bleat, a baby cries and the sun peeks over the horizon. It’s time for chai. 

Sarah* is on her feet. The busy mother and grandmother bustles around efficiently. With her flashing eyes and quick wit, it's clear that not much escapes her notice. Her daughter-in-law, Meenu,* serves her breakfast that she has cooked over a fire fueled by cow dung—it burns slowly and evenly, and there's plenty of it. Their whitewashed compound is immaculate; no small feat considering it's home to at least 20 extended family members and assorted livestock. 

Today is another opportunity for Sarah to share oral Bible stories in neighbouring villages. Ever since she became a Christian as a teenager, she's dreamt of a life of ministry—she loves serving God. Before the desert heat inevitably crescendos, she'll spend some time preparing her lessons.  

But first, chai. 

Morning

Sarah gathers her storyboards, a storybook Bible and her copy of the Ikimeg* New Testament. Her husband, Hiro,* helped translate it, and he'll be joining her today as she travels to two villages. The New Testament is a milestone for this community, but many people—women in particular—cannot read yet, so oral stories crafted from the translated Scripture are an essential resource. 

The majority religion in this region is Islam, but the people that Sarah and Hiro will visit today are all from a Hindu background, as is Sarah herself. “Before knowing Jesus, my life was worshiping idols, but God gave us a new life, and we have eternal life through Him,” she says. 

As members of a scheduled caste—often referred to as 'untouchable’—many Ikimeg families face discrimination, limited opportunities and a lifetime of hard, physical labour. When Sarah began sharing Bible stories with them six years ago, some mocked her, but others were curious: who was this God who humbled Himself, rather than demanding sacrifices? Today, many villagers are eager for her weekly visits. 

Midday

Sarah and Hiro—along with several of their grandchildren—pile into their tiny Suzuki and drive to Hiro's sister Rachel's* village. Their family relationship provides Sarah with a natural entry point to the village, and Rachel's one-room home quickly fills with neighbours. The men sit on the right side of the room, the women on the left and children fill in the gaps. 

The sun is high in the sky and a ceiling fan chugs with effort as Rachel's son offers chai to the adults. Outside, the temperature is over 40 degrees, but fortunately, it isn't the hot season yet—that's when the mercury pushes 50 degrees.

As Sarah unpacks her materials, men and women alike turn to Hiro, expectantly. In this culture, men are the leaders and the authorities on spiritual matters. But Hiro sits quietly, one of his grandchildren perched on his lap, waiting for his wife to begin the story. When Sarah first expressed interest in becoming an oral Bible storyteller, he was uncertain—it wasn't a typical role for women. But watching her teach has changed his perspective.

Sarah tells the story of Jesus healing the demon-possessed man. The idea of evil spirits and demon-possession is familiar, and everyone in the room listens intently. One participant shares “I used to do idol worship, and there was a spirit in me. But now, I have faith [in Jesus] and I am baptized. Now I am free, just like the man in the story today.”

Others echo this sentiment: Jesus has freed them. They're eager for Sarah to return next week to share more.  

Afternoon

Sarah and Hiro drive back to their home, where she gives directions for the evening's meal to her daughters and daughter-in-law, and completes some housework. Endless sweeping is needed to keep the dust under control on the compound. At last, the sun begins to descend, and a light breeze picks up. On the rooftop, it's almost pleasant. 

Hiro's office is here. On the wall there's a massive banner celebrating the dedication of the Ikimeg New Testament. Now, Hiro is working with the other members of his team to translate the Old Testament as part of the Jeewan Cluster project. A soft-hearted father and grandfather, he's often surrounded by a pile of children when he's downstairs, but this quiet room on the roof is where he can focus on the detailed work of translation.

He used to preach and read Scripture in the national language. But that has changed now that people have access to Scripture in Ikimeg. “People are listening with interest, and they understand,” he says. “It's different now, because when our own people share, they understand. And when they understand, their hearts are changed.”

Evening

As dusk arrives, so do several neighbouring women, inviting Sarah to visit their home. She has been sharing oral Bible stories with them for years and many have put their faith in Jesus. 

“We thank the Lord that Sarah comes,” says one of the women. “We thank the Lord that we can be free from evil spirits, free from idol worship, and that our children are growing up in the light.”

They cluster outside on a charpai, a simple bedframe strung with woven cords. Nearby, a swaddled newborn rocks in a makeshift swing. Babies represent hope and the future in these Hindu and fledgling Christian communities. Children—sons in particular—are desired above all things. Infertility is considered a tragedy, and in the Hindu religion, a curse. 

Even when longed-for babies arrive, life in the village is fragile. Healthcare is limited, and the heat is intense. When women can't conceive and children get sick, Christians face tremendous social pressure to return to Hindu practices and offer sacrifices to the gods at the local shrine. 

Sarah understands the struggle intimately. She and Hiro lost three children, all sons, at birth due to health complications. It broke their hearts, but they were determined to continue trusting God, even when their community pressured them to offer sacrifices. 

They named their fourth son Samuel, and like Hannah in the Bible, dedicated him to the Lord. Today, he also ministers in their community, teaching his own children and others to love God.

Nightfall

That evening, Sarah and her family sleep on charpais cloaked in mosquito netting in their courtyard, the breeze a delicious escape from the heat that still lingers inside. The morning will bring an informal Sunday school class—complete with songs, Bible stories and candy—for their own children and those of their neighbours. 

The village mosques once again echo the call to prayer, the cows and goats curl up on earth still warm from the heat of the day, and even the babies are quiet. Night falls on the village. 

Tomorrow will bring another early morning—and another opportunity to share the Light.

*pseudonyms

Story by Ruth Richert