Prompted

The following guest article is an abridged excerpt from Abigail Follows’ new book, “Hidden Song of the Himalayas: Memoir of a Gospel Seed Sower in the Mountains of India.” Abigail (pen name) served in a region unfriendly — even hostile — towards evangelism.

“He’s crying. Go to him.” I opened my eyes, heavy from deep sleep, and listened.
“It’s Neenoo. You must go to him.” Was this God speaking to me?
“Go upstairs.”
Instead, I sat on the stairs. “I can’t do it, God!”
“Go.”
“But God, I’m afraid of what they will think!”
“Didn’t you tell me this afternoon that you are willing to die for Me? Isn’t this easier than dying?”
“Okay,” I said aloud. Crawling up the steep steps, I opened the lock on our side. The door swung open an inch.
Mrs. Pandit, Neenoo’s grandmother, glanced up at me. She didn’t seem surprised to see me.
“He woke you, too, huh?” she asked.
“Um . . . no,” I said. “God did.”
Mrs. Pandit nodded as though this was normal. I sat on the closest mat and tried to make myself small.
“Pray for him,” God said.
I bowed my head.
“Show you are praying.”
I folded my hands. Neenoo rolled over on his back and continued to cry.
“Go to him.”
I struggled for a moment as everyone’s gaze focused on me. But I had to continue, if only to find out God’s purpose in bringing me there. Standing, I walked to the mat nearest Neenoo and sat down again. He rolled towards me, still wailing.
Now Mr. Pandit arrived. He glanced at me, then took a seat on a mat next to his daughter-in-law, Neenoo’s mother.
Mr. Pandit sat the same way he walked. Like someone important. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. A professional spiritualist, Mr. Pandit was the closest person to a witch doctor I knew, though he looked nothing like the stereotype. Even now, in the middle of the night, he wore a wool suit coat over a long, white tunic.
Ever since Mr. Pandit and his family had moved in upstairs, people had been coming to see him non-stop. Sometimes I heard him at night working with a client for whom he would tell the future or curse an enemy. Beside him, I felt small and immature, like a child playing at religion.
“God, do this through me,” I prayed. “I am nothing!”

————-

To find out what happened next, order Abigail’s book, “Hidden Song of the Himalayas.” Learn of her family’s desire to share their faith in a way the mountainous Parvata people would understand. Political, social, and internal obstacles threatened to render their efforts useless, but God’s promises prevailed.

“Funny, honest, and deeply spiritual; fast-paced and well-written….I appreciated Abigail’s openness as she shared her spiritual doubts and questions — and how God answered.” – Mercy Maude (5 Stars)

Copies of “Hidden Song of the Himalayas,” benefitting AFM’s ministry, are available for a suggested donation of $15. Call 1-800-937-4236 to order, or request a book with your next donation.

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