On The Road To Varanasi

In 1996, I received a letter from a seminary in northern India asking if I would be willing to come there to teach at a “Spiritual Emphasis” week. There would be an Indian man speaking in the large tent every evening and I was to teach for an hour each morning to all the students, staff and local believers who might come. The writer added that he had been given my name by a brother in UK who had mentioned that I would probably come even though they could offer no financial assistance. I agreed to go as I had already committed myself to the Lord that I would accept any invitation so long as there were sufficient funds in my ‘ministry account’ where all honoraria, gifts, etc., had been placed.

The trip was planned for February 1997. Anne mentioned this trip in our Christmas letter that year’s end, so we were not too surprised when another letter arrived early in the New Year asking if I would extend my journey to Asia to take a further month for ministry with Youth With A Mission (YWAM) in Nepal. This I was eager to do as we have such warm memories of our fellowship with Nepalese believers among the Ghurka soldiers of Hong Kong. So the trip was planned – two weeks in Allahabad, India, followed by a month in Nepal, from where I would journey on to Australia and Capernwray School where Anne would be waiting for me.

My ticket for the entire five-month trip cost almost exactly what I had in the ‘ministry account.’

I spoke at five small seminary classes in New Dehli before taking the overnight train to Allahabad and the seminary. As the main speaker did not arrive on the Sunday, I was asked to speak in the large tent meeting to several hundred believers. Then each morning, I addressed the hundred students plus staff and visitors, including many from a local women’s seminary – approximately two hundred in all. It went very well, and all were gracious in the acceptance of my teaching.

On Saturday, my work was finished but I had a dilemma. The following Monday, I was due to fly on to Kathmandu. However, the Air India agents told me that my flight ticket (booked by computer several weeks earlier in Canada) could not be found, and that the earliest date they could put me on a plane was Friday, a week later. The only alternative was to take a fifteen-hour bus ride over a second- class road, and to carry my two heavy travel bags a considerable distance over the border. The nearest airport was at Varanasi, 150km away so I could not easily go to the airport to check out the problem.

During the past year, the president of the seminary had left and an interim leader, a former missionary from the USA, who was directing the work. Rudy Raby and his wife Eleanor were well into their 70s but their love for the Lord and His work was undiminished.

"Gareth, I must go to the airport on Saturday, to pick up a visitor from Australia," said Rudy. "Why don't you come with me to see if you can find what happened to your ticket? Maybe they have your name mixed up in their records there." As I woke that Saturday morning, I assured the Lord that I was willing to travel by bus, but I'd much prefer to travel by plane! So, it was that a short while later, Rudy, Eleanor and I began the five-hour journey from Allahabad to Varanasi, the airport.

The journey was slow as the winding narrow road was full of potholes, people, and cows. About three hours into our journey, Eleanor felt a desperate need for a toilet break. In India that often means 'behind the nearest bush' so Rudy was instructed to stop at the first convenient place. That was not suitable to Eleanor so Rudy was told to drive a little further. This was repeated three times until we pulled up behind a stationery car.

As Eleanor went off into the nearby shrubbery, the driver of the car, who would have seen our stop-go motion of the last few minutes, left his car and approached us.

"Anything wrong?" he enquired. "No, just a toilet break" replied Rudy, and then, taking a closer look, "I say, aren't you Simon Job?"

"Yes," replied the stranger. "Who are you?" "I'm Rudy Rabi!" shouted Rudy as he leapt out of the car and the two of them embraced. Evidently, fifteen years earlier, Simon and Rudy's son had been closest of friends in school together while their fathers had taught at the seminary.

I was introduced and, when he heard of my ticket dilemma, Simon asked me for my itinerary, saying "Leave this to me." "Are you an angel?" I asked, looking to see if there were any wings evident.

Later that evening, as we relaxed in a Varanasi hotel, Simon called to tell me his agent would take me to the airport in the morning. He had not been able to arrange a ticket but assured me that his agent would try his best.

On the 25km journey to the airport next morning, his 'agent', my hotel manager, told me that, in that Hindu city, Simon Job was one of the most respected of all men, whose Christian ethics were seen in all his business actions. He also told me that he had been in contact with the Air India office that morning and they had made me #10 on their 'business class' waiting list. Number 10! My heart sank as I realized what little hope I had of a seat, knowing there are only about ten seats in total in business class.

The airport lounge was crowded with travelers, mostly pilgrims and sightseers to this most Hindu of Indian cities. I sat on my luggage in one corner while the agent went off in search of my ticket. Ten minutes later he returned. "Mr. Evans, I have found your name!" he exclaimed, "but they have knocked you off the manifesto for Monday because they have a large tour party coming through!" Seeing my disappointment, he hastened to add, "I told them nobody knocks a friend of Simon Job off the manifesto!"

An hour passed. The large party of travelers had left for the departure lounge, and I was patiently waiting for the agent and his chauffeur to return so we could go back to the city. Just then, a young man rushed up with a ticket in his hand. "Come on, sir," he shouted, "You're on this plane today." He took both my travel bags and ran toward the departure gate. As I caught up with him, I asked, "How many from the waiting list got on the plane?" When he told me that only two had obtained tickets, I expressed surprise, knowing that I was #10. He replied, "Oh no, sir, anyone who is a friend of Simon Job is #1 up here!" I ran up the gangway onto the plane only to discover I was the only one on board!

As the stewardess seated me in the first seat, I feared that I was on the wrong plane, until I saw the terminal doors open and all the other passengers walk toward us. Each one of them bowed their heads to me as they entered assuming I was some dignitary! And, of course I am – the Son of the King - and a friend of Simon Job’s!

Could it be that God, knowing His child was having travel problems, caused a young businessman to take a roadside break at exactly the same place where, a few minutes later, an elderly lady would need to stop for a toilet break? Coincidence? I don't think so!

There was a wonderful month of ministry in Nepal, during which I found two of the Ghurka soldiers I had had the privilege of teaching in Hong Kong. I spoke to many YWAM groups and at several churches.

I had the great privilege of meeting a man who had pastored a church during times of great persecution before the nation allowed Christian ministries early in the 90s. My figures below are probably wrong but not by much. He had been arrested twenty times, had been put in prison eight times serving as many as twelve years behind bars. Eachtime he was released, he would return to his burnt-out church and begin to preach again. Threats, beatings and arrest followed yet again.

As I had never experienced persecution, I asked him how he managed to be so brave throughout it all. His answer was illuminating. He said, “Gareth, why should I be afraid when I know the lion has already roared its loudest?” His humility was also revealed when, at a break in my teaching for which he was the interpreter, we were both brought pewter goblets of Coca Cola for refreshment. He commented, “What a privilege it is to stand alongside the prophet – for even the donkey gets to drink!”

On the plane out of Kathmandu, I was blessed to have a window seat on the port side, from where I had a wonderful view of the Himalayas, as we traveled due east before turning south to Singapore and Sydney. The sky was brilliant blue, the mountains glistening white and crystal clear, all except one small black triangle – Everest, the south face of which is too steep to hold any snow!

I flew on to Sydney, and thence to Capernwray Bible School where Anne was waiting for me. Here, I taught young people from Australia, Europe and Canada for a week.

This would be the first honorarium I had received for two months as neither works in India or Nepal could afford to assist in any of my travel costs. Sufficient to say that after three months in Australia, my total honoraria there came to almost exactly the cost of my five-month ticket for this combined trip! Added to that, Lynette’s church had decided to surprise and bless us with a ‘love offering’ which again matched the cost of a ticket to Brazil, my destination one month later. God is faithful!