This past weekend a prayer was answered when two guys from American came to live with me for two months. Some of you may not know that I am extrovert and living alone is not one of my favorite things to do. This town also shuts down about 8 at night and that leaves me alone and crying most nights. These two guys have been great though and have been provided by God. While mostly everything about having new guys here is great, there is one thing that is not exactly great. Every time fresh blood shows up on the field, the local tourist spots must be hit. The first time I went to most of these places it was great. These things were so different and were so cool to see, but the more you go the less interesting it becomes. One of the spots we typically hit is the local Hindu Temple. This temple is something similar to what you might see in a movie. There is a group of small temples that are set against the background of a cliff covered in concrete. There are two bridges that cross a small river. The river contains more plastic bags and bottles than water most of the time. The riverbank opposite the small temples is stairs of concrete that lead up to platforms that are used for the burning of bodies. The backdrop for these platforms are large temples were worship is done everyday. There are also Hindu “holy men” dressed in bright orange, with dread locks and brightly painted faces. The thing that sets the temple off is the large population of monkeys that every minute seem to be plotting the takeover of mankind.
This visit started out like any other. I tried to sneak them in the back way so we could avoid the 500 Rupee charge, but we were caught. I argued/talked with the security guard for a few minutes, but was only able to get myself in free and the new guys had to pay. This was not uncommon, so we headed into the temple and I began to show them around. We started on top of the cliff and after the guys took some pictures we headed down to watch the funerals. This always makes me uneasy and the first time for everyone becomes a soul-searching event. The concrete platforms are built up on top with a bed of logs and are placed on the platform long in advance of the funerals, so you get an idea of what will be happening in the next few minutes. This time there was one body already burning, two full of full size beds of logs and one that had a small bed of logs. The first body came out covered in a sheet followed by the family. The men of the family took the body and placed it on the bed and some priest began to stuff the space in the logs with hay. A fire was started and the body began to burn. The body takes a pretty good while to burn and about half way thru there is always a loud pop that is said to be the bursting of the skull.
While this is always a heart-breaking thing to watch, I was still trying to figure out the half bed of logs. I was watching the guys also and you could see the somberness taking over their faces. I had started telling them about what was happening, but after about ten minutes silence had taken over. We simply watched. No questions were asked, but all our hearts were broken as the realization of another soul burning in hell. Watching the family celebrate this death is not an easy task to do without crying. This is not an easy thing to watch, but I was still wondering about the small stack of logs. I was thinking that they had probably ran out of logs and went to get more. There would be no more logs added to this pile.
The next scene was a heart tearing, memory-searing event. A family began to walk toward the platform and what looked like sheets being carried to the river for a washing were leading the way. I wished with all my soul that it had been exactly that. The men in the family then placed the small child on top of the bed of wood. The hay was stuffed in, the fire was lit and the small body began to burn. My emotions took over and I was completely speechless. I honestly did not know what to think. I love kids and the thought of any child dying is always heart breaking, but did this child just escape a life of darkness? I am a firm believer that children, especially small children, are accepted into the Kingdom at death. This child, judging by the size of the sheet, was no older than four. This child now sings praises to the Creator. This child though was being taught to worship statues. This child was being raised to bow before the created instead of the Creator. Should I have been rejoicing in death at such a young age, or should I be weeping at the loss of a beautiful child’s life? I am still at a loss for what should be the emotions felt in such a situation. The fact truly is that the best chance many of the children in this culture have for making it into the Kingdom is a young death. Something is terribly wrong, this should not be. The children should grow up with many opportunities to hear the truth. They should be taught from an early age that He loves them and spilled His blood for them. They are not. Many are taught that the Savior is a simply a good teacher. Others are taught that they should run from him. A few will stand before him at judgment and will be hearing of him for the first time, and a few others will at some point here a true presentation of the Gospel and accept. While the situation is not completely hopeless, the hope is small. What then should we do? Why do we sit with apathy while the fires of hell burn endlessly and the souls of the lost cry like the rich man? Would you want your child to grow up without the King? Will you continue to watch families raise their children to serve false idols? You see the difference here and the difference in American children is not that different. Children here are taught to serve the created and children back home are often taught to serve themselves. They are taught to serve the created.
As I have thought often about this scene lately, I do not have an answer. I have thought about what the child must be feeling watching loved ones weep and cry out to the rocks. Does she run to the throne and beseech with tears and wailing The Mighty One on behalf of her family. Can you even do such a thing? Does the child weep at their lostness. I do not know what happens but I know these children should be given a chance. The children of my country, the children of Asia, Africa, and the entire world should hear about our Savior. We must not, we can not sit by and watch the world burn.
