Sundar said a quick prayer over the man and then staggered on the last quarter mile to the village. Soon both he and the man he had rescued were warming themselves in front of a smoky fire. As Sundar thought about the day’s events, he realized that the exertion of carrying the man on his back and the contact of their two bodies had produced enough heat to keep both men warm—and alive. Sundar knew that if he had not stopped to rescue the fallen man, he, too, would most likely have frozen to death at the side of the trail with his Tibetan traveling companion.
The rescue marked the start of another long summer of witnessing from village to village in Tibet. News of the rescue quickly spread, and in its wake the hearts of many were opened to listen to what Sundar had to say, though others remained as hostile as ever. As Sundar approached one village, he decided to sit on a log and sing some hymns. He was halfway through his third hymn when people from the village began to appear from their houses and fields. One man, who was short but very strong, yelled abuse at Sundar. When Sundar did not respond, the man walked over and pushed him to the ground. Sundar put his hands out to soften his fall, but the jagged rocks cut one of his hands and his face.
Praying softly, Sundar unwrapped his turban and wound it around his cut hand. Then, with blood still running down his face, he sat on the log again and continued singing. When he was finished, he prayed aloud, asking God to bless everyone in the village and give them abundant crops. He then walked on, hoping to find a better reception at the next village.
As fall approached, there were no new converts, but still Sundar felt his time had been well spent. He once again made his way back across the mountain pass into India.
When Sundar got back to Simla, a huge pile of mail awaited him. In the pile was a copy of a Christian newsletter called Nur Afshan. The goal of the newsletter was to encourage Christians in northern India to live their faith openly. As Sundar skimmed through the publication, a letter to the editor caught his attention:
I am an employee of the Forest Department. In May, I was walking down a mountain road when I saw a sadhu with a blanket on his shoulder and a few books in his hand. I determined to follow him. The sadhu strode along till he reached a village. There he sat on a log and began to sing. When the village people realized that he was a Christian, they became hostile, and one of them knocked the holy man down, cutting his hand and cheek. The sadhu bound up his hand with his turban and continued to sing songs of praise to his God. When he left, he showed no signs of hatred. Instead he asked God’s blessing on them all.
I stayed in that village and report to you that so great was the impression the sadhu made, the man who pushed him to the ground has already become a Christian and been baptized, and I am writing to you asking that your readers will pray for me, that I, too, might have the courage to openly confess faith in the Lord Christ.
Signed,
E. Das.
As Sundar read, he remembered the incident well and thanked God that his suffering had caused those around him to think about their own faith. For him two new Christians as a result of his efforts in Tibet made the hardships of the trip seem worthwhile.
Another letter in the pile of mail greatly surprised Sundar. It was from his father. It had been years since Sundar had heard from him. Sundar carefully read the letter, which opened with a general greeting, followed by a plea for Sundar to reconsider his future and come back to Rampur. Sher Singh wrote that he had a bride picked out for Sundar and spare rooms in the family compound for him to move into and start a family. With sadness Sundar put down the letter. He thought about how old his father must be now and wondered whether his father would ever understand the life that his youngest son had chosen to lead.
Other letters were also in the pile. Many of them were from people in western and southern India who asked Sundar to visit their churches and speak to their religious groups. As Sundar studied the return addresses, he was astonished at how far his fame had spread. One letter was from an Indian Christian he had met once before. This man said he had taken the liberty of writing about Sundar’s life and teaching and had printed it in a booklet. He reported that the booklet was selling very well. Now Sundar understood why he was getting letters from all over India. People were reading the booklet and wanting to see Sundar in person.
The thought of traveling outside of northern India did not appeal to Sundar. He felt that his main purpose in life was to stir up Christians in northern India to make missionary forays into Tibet and Nepal. Anything else seemed like a needless distraction.
In December, though, Sundar reconsidered his resolve to stay in the north. He had traveled to the town of Baroda near the Gulf of Cambay and planned to return to Sabathu on the 5:00 am train the following morning. He retired at nine o’clock and spent two hours in prayer, as he often did. While he was praying, Sundar felt that God was telling him that since he had already traveled this far south, it was time for him to go even farther south. The next morning Sundar did not head back north as planned, and at nine o’clock a telegram was delivered to the house. It read, “Please come to South India.” It was the confirmation he had been looking for, and he bought a ticket on a train heading south.
Sundar had no formal plans. He trusted instead that God would guide him. As always, he carried nothing with him but his blanket, a New Testament, and a couple of books he was reading.
India is a huge, diverse country, stretching two thousand miles from north to south, and Sundar decided to travel down the west coast to the city of Ratnagiri. As Sundar made his way to the station to catch a train to Ratnagiri, he noticed on the ground a page torn from the Gospel of John. He bent down and picked up the page so that it would not be disrespected more by being trampled on. He folded the page in half and slipped it into his pocket.
Two hours later Sundar was sitting on the train, wending his way south. When the train stopped at a small station, a short man wearing a dirty robe climbed aboard and found a seat in the carriage not far from Sundar. As the train rumbled south again, Sundar was aware that the man had brought a strange, almost evil atmosphere into the carriage. He soon learned why this was. The man declared himself to be a sorcerer and began reciting chants and incantations. Before long he had put the man seated opposite him into a trance. It was then that Sundar decided he must act.
“You may be a sorcerer,” Sundar said, “but I know One who is more powerful than anything you have experienced.”
“Who is that?” the sorcerer snapped.
“Jesus Christ, of whom I am a follower.”
Sundar noticed a grim look spread across the man’s face. Then, with a flourish, the sorcerer leapt to his feet and moved to sit across from Sundar.
“Very well,” the sorcerer said, raising his voice to be heard by as many people as possible in the carriage. “If you are His follower, then we shall see whose power is greater. I shall use my powers to subdue you and put you in a trance.”
“You can try if you like, but it will do you no good,” Sundar replied matter-of-factly, and then he said a quiet prayer under his breath.
For the next half hour the sorcerer focused all his attention on Sundar, chanting incantations and prayers as he tried desperately to put him into a trance. But Sundar remained wide awake and aware that everyone’s eyes in the carriage were now focused on him and the sorcerer.
Finally the sorcerer looked up. “You have a book in your pocket that is preventing my spell from working,” he declared.
Sundar reached into his pocket, pulled out his New Testament, and laid it on the seat beside him.
The sorcerer then went back to his incantations. But after a few minutes he stopped and said, “There is still a page of the holy book in your pocket that is blocking me.”
Once again Sundar reached into his pocket, where he discovered the folded page from the Gospel of John he had picked up from the ground. He took it out and laid it on top of the New Testament.
Again the sorcerer went back to the task of putting Sundar into a trance. Once again he could not. This time he declared that Sundar’s robe was impeding his progress, and Sundar took it off. Sundar sat clad only in a loincloth and turban as the sorcerer chanted more incantations. And once again the sorcerer failed.
“I see there is some mysterious power pervading you,” the sorcerer finally confessed.
“You have spoken correctly,” Sundar said. “It is the power of Jesus Christ, against which your evil is powerless.”
Sundar went on to explain to the sorcerer the gospel and the power of Jesus Christ to change a person’s life. The sorcerer, knowing he had encountered a stronger spiritual power, listened attentively to Sundar. The rest of the people in the carriage were quiet.
Finally Sundar arrived in Ratnagiri, where people were excited to see him. He soon found himself busy preaching to the crowds of people who flocked to hear him. At first Sundar was surprised by all the attention his presence in Ratnagiri had generated. He knew that news of him and his ministry had spread beyond northern India, but he had no idea that this many people were interested in what he did and had to say. Still he made the most of the opportunity to challenge the Christians who came to hear him with the need to go and preach the gospel to others. Many who came to hear him speak were not Christians, and a number of them were converted.
While in Ratnagiri, Sundar was invited to attend three choral performances by the girls at a Christian boarding school. The first evening, as Sundar sat outdoors listening to the girls sing hymns, he wrapped a thin scarf around his neck to keep warm. The following night, when he arrived for the performance, the girls presented Sundar with a thick, woolen shawl. Sundar was grateful for their thoughtfulness and generosity, and, with the shawl wrapped tightly about him, he sat listening to them sing.
Sundar used the shawl again the following night. When the girls’ performance was finished, he began walking through the streets of Ratnagiri to the house where he was staying. Along the way he encountered a beggar shivering and trying to keep warm beside a meager fire. Without a second thought, Sundar slipped the shawl from his shoulders, placed it around the beggar man, and walked on.
The following day a special meeting was arranged for all of the lawyers in Ratnagiri to come to a local hall to hear Sundar speak. That night three hundred lawyers and their wives and children gathered. Sundar told them about his life and how things had changed so dramatically for him after he became a Christian. He then challenged his audience to follow his example.
At the end of the meeting, three of the lawyers prostrated themselves on the dusty floor in front of Sundar as a mark of respect.
“Do not do this,” Sundar said, reaching to help the men back onto their feet. But as Sundar left the hall, the women and children crowded around him. Many of the mothers reached out and took his scarf and touched it to the heads of their children, while other women reverently touched his robe.
This troubled a missionary attending the meeting. When the crowd finally dispersed he asked Sundar, “Why do you allow the people to pay their respects to you in such ways?”
“I do not want their honor. They do what they do out of love for me,” Sundar responded.
“Yes, but such honor belongs to Jesus Christ, not you,” the missionary said.
Sundar looked at the missionary for a moment and then explained, “Well, Sahib, I shall tell you why I get it and why I accept it. My beloved Jesus went to Jerusalem riding on a colt. The people took off their clothes and spread them on the road. It was the colt who walked on the clothes, not Jesus. The colt was honored because he carried Jesus. I am like that colt. People honor me not for my sake but because I preach Christ.”
