The first Hindu temple gave me ample food for thought. As we gazed upon the peninsular
structure, Mrs. Jennifer Bachew (our beautiful contact and wise guide for todays adventures) told us the story of how a man with a bicycle and two buckets had built the peninsula on which the temple was built...Many years ago, the British had promised the Hindu immigrants that they would be able to build a temple if they immigrated to the isle. However, when the time came to do so, the immigrants were not allowed to build a temple on 'the Queen's land'. So one man with two buckets on a bicycle carried soil out into the bay until a temple could be built, easily 300 yards out into the inlet...
Truly a picture of devotion and resolve. And as I stood on the shoal and gazed across the water, I was forced to ask myself whether or not I lived with that kind of ardor for a Jesus who is alive... a Jesus who hears my cry and speaks to my heart, not a god of stone ears and stone hands, stone lips and a stone heart... This was my moment frozen in time and not soon to be forgotten...
At the second temple, a statue of Vishnu towered hundreds of feet above the visitor, finely painted and impressive in form. A plaque upon the wall assured all comers that Vishnu knew our thoughts and encouraged us to give lavishly to the needs of the temple...
And so, as Liz scrubbed, she told the story...
...of the man she saw standing just inside the gate, bowed humbly and ardently in prayer, his shoes left outside the gate and his thoughts directed earnestly at a god of stone. As Liz said, his prayers were 'bouncing off the roof of his mouth' and moving not at all the statue before him. We wondered aloud to ourselves in the kitchen what it would be like to face life's challenges without the knowledge of a God who is fully alive and mighty on our behalf? She will not soon forget the lone stranger praying passionately and yet so in need of a Savior... ~Nate Gazelka
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