Ongole is only a three-hour drive from Vijayawada, so we elected to hire a taxi cab to drive us there. We left shortly after the last service. Most taxi drivers don't want to do that type of drive, as the roads between cities in that part of India are very bad. We had sort of made friends with a Muslim taxi cab driver earlier -- believe it or not, Christians and Muslims have a lot in common in a Hindu culture -- both detest idols, both believe in an invisible God and both are minorities in that part of India. The Muslim driver agreed to take us to Ongole. I must say that it was a bit of a relief to be in his taxi because there was not an idol in it. There is sort of a constant spiritual oppression around these idols, as little demons empower many of them and receive worship from the people -- demons love to be worshipped. The demons like to take little jabs at me when I ride in the taxis, causing a very minor background oppression/tension. But that was not present in this Muslim taxi. I think that is because he did not have an idol in it.
It is very much of an understatement to say the roads are "bad" between these two cities. At points there would be paved roads and at other points dirt roads. But at some points the road would disappear all together and it would be just open countryside for a short distance. I could not figure out how the driver found the road when it started up again.. but he did.
The rules of the road in India are very different than here, and if you don't understand them, it looks like total mayhem with a lot of horn honking. Cars speed towards each other very fast on what looks like a one-lane road. Just as you brace yourself for a collision, they both suddenly swerve to the left and pass each other safely -- usually passing within an inch of each other. Believe it or not, they seldom have car accidents. But when they do have an accident, it is usually fatal.
This style of driving had terrified me on my first trip to India and on several occasions I believed I was about to meet God face to face. But this was my third trip to India and I had gotten used to riding in Indian vehicles. This particular taxi had bucket seats. Sharath sat in the front and we had been talking. So I was in the middle, between the two seats, where there was a gap. The cold medicine began to effect me and I got sleepy. I ended up taking a nap while sitting up in the back seat.
Suddenly I felt myself flying through the air and hitting something hard. I think it was the dash board, but I am not sure. The taxi was swerving and slamming on it's breaks, sort of skidding out of control. It just barely missed being in an accident. The driver stopped the taxi and rolled down the window and yelled at the other car. According to Sharath, the other driver had done some big no-no that had almost caused a fatal accident.
It all happened so fast that I could barely process what was going on. But it did not take long to figure out that I had bumps and bruises from the near-accident, and they hurt. Also, I had all of my valuables in an open canvas bag that had been sitting on the seat next to me. They were all spilled over the floor and it is very dark in rural India at night. There are not any street lights there. Sharath helped me feel around the bottom of the car for my possessions and put them back in the bag. I sort of prayed that God would not allow me to loose anything important. But even with the internal car light turned on, I could not really see well enough to verify I had gotten everything.
After gathering my belongings, I began to complain about the bumps and bruises and pain. Also, my neck was starting to hurt, like a mild whiplash or something. I mentioned a couple of the pains and then God told me to be quiet. He told me that if I went on about it, I would give the enemy more grounds to attack me. I know that instruction might sound weird, but after the types of things I'd seen on this trip, I decided it would be a good idea to obey God instantly. So I shut up. (But I did continue to silently tell God about my various pains and ask Him to fix them. He did seem to make most of them go away before the three plus hour trip was over.)
When we arrived in Ongole, we had great difficulty finding the place we were going to. We spent over an hour looking for it. Once we finally arrived, I was greeted warmly and ushered to a very comfortable Western style guest room. We were on a ministry complex and they had set up two rooms for Western guests. It had glass windows that closed, an air conditioner, and a private bathroom. The room was huge with two double beds in it. I suspected they often had teams that came and the rooms were set up to handle the teams.. one for the ladies and one for the men. Sharath and I were a team of two, so we each got a private room.
They brought me a soda to greet me and someone came in to make sure I had everything I needed. I mentioned that I had not had dinner and asked if I might get something to eat before I went to bed. So they brought us to the dining area and we had a cold dinner of leftovers from the refrigerator. They had a water purifier, so we did not have to send out for bottled water. We had a nice time of fellowship with Paul and Jessie, James' father and brother. James and his wife Sarah were driving out from Hyderbad (about a 8 or 10 hour drive) and had not arrived yet. Then Jessie took me to his office and let me use his computer to check my e-mail. I was in seventh heaven -- a comfortable Western style room and computer access.
I thought my stay there would be extremely pleasant -- and it would have been, except for all the spiritual warfare that surrounds this ministry.
Let me backtrack a bit. About two weeks before the trip, I had my meetings all set up with Sharath and tickets purchased, etc. I sent an e-mail to my lists telling about the trip and asking for prayer and maybe some financial support. I got an e-mail from someone named James who was on my prophetic-word list. He said that his ministry was based in Ongole, which was only a few hours away from one of the cities I was visiting. He wanted to know if there was any way I could come to Ongole to teach and prophecy to his 350 pastors. He even offered to pay any additional expenses I would incur to come there. Normally when I get that type of e-mail that close to a trip, it is not possible to consider it. After all, the trip schedule and the return flight are all finalized and usually unchangeable. But God spoke to me as I read the e-mail and said, "Teresa, I want you to go there."
So James and I talked on the phone, and made arrangements. God had told me to fly Singapore airlines for this trip when I purchased my tickets, several months earlier. That airline was a few hundred dollars more expensive and I had wondered why God had selected that airline. But now it became clear, because this was the only airline where I could change my return flight with no penalty. So I was able to push back my return date by two days to accommodate the trip to Ongole.
Before I left the United States, God told me that Sharath must come with me to Ongole because God had an important contact for him there. I assumed it would be with James, who headed India Christian Ministries and who had planted 635 churches in seven years. But the important contact turned out to be between Sharath and Paul, James' father. Paul is an older man now, but in his day he had been an extremely powerful and anointed minister. Sharath and he formed a close friendship that first night and spent all of their free time together. Paul was the sort of spiritual dad/advisor that Sharath had been praying for -- someone he could run ministry related things by.
After dinner and using the internet, I went to bed and had a good sleep. I thought maybe God would allow me to sleep through the whole night this time, but He did not. He woke me in the wee hours of the night to have fellowship time, and He also gave me instructions for the day. It was Sunday and I was to speak at a church in Ongole for the morning service, then have a meeting with the senior leadership of James' ministry in the afternoon. God told me what to say at the morning service. But all He would say about the afternoon meeting was that I would preach prophetically and He'd give me what I need to share at the meeting.
After a few hours of prayer and fellowship with God, I suddenly realized that I had kept my money belt in my canvas bag, the one that spilled all over the bottom of the taxi when we had the near accident. I had four hundred dollars cash in there as well as another four hundred dollars of traveler's checks. I jumped out of bed and ran to my canvas bag to see if the money belt was there -- it was not. I felt a surge of alarm go through me. Then I began ripping through both of my suitcases, praying "Lord, let it be in one of them." I also searched my backpack, which served as my briefcase. I could not find the money belt.
That would have been a good time to stop and talk to God about it, but I did not do that. I decided to have a systematic search of my possessions instead, just in case I had missed it in my quick search. So I took each and every item out of my suitcase, one item at a time. The money belt was not among my possessions. Now that I knew I could not solve this problem myself, I turned to prayer. (It would have been smarter to turn to God earlier, I am not sure why I did not do that first.)
I prayed, "God, I lost my money belt. Please return it to me!" I began to wonder if there was some way to contact the taxi cab driver and see if he found it. If he did find it, would he be honest enough to return it to me? Even if he was willing to return it to me, it was a six-hour round trip drive for him to do so. Was there any way to get his phone number? I wanted to knock on Sharath's door and ask him about it, but it was only five in the morning, too early to disturb Sharath.
It all seemed rather hopeless. The money was gone.
"Lord," I prayed again, "Before I left for this trip, You promised You would take care of me on it. Lately I don't feel all that taken care of, with the cold and now loosing the money. Can You please help me out here?"
I sort of paced around the room as I prayed. I stopped pacing at one point and I was standing directly in front of my backpack, which was laying on the bed next to the one I was sleeping in. I looked down at it and I could not believe my eyes. My money belt was laying on top of the backpack! I am pretty sure it was not there before. Maybe it had been in my possessions all the time and I simply overlooked it in my two searches for it. That is possible.
But I think maybe an angel put it there in response to my prayer! God was taking care of me in supernatural ways! I started thanking Him and pretty soon I was lost in worship again.
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