Acharya RRK Murthy — Life Testimony

My Village

My village is Govindapuram, a small hamlet just off the Chilakaluripet road, in Narsaraopet taluk of Guntur district. I was born and raised in a strict, traditional, Vedic-scholar Brahmin family. My father's name was Ranganayaka Sarma, and my mother's name was Kameshwaramma. We were five brothers, and I was the youngest of them all. My full name is Rayasam Radhakrishna Murthy. We belong to the Haritasa gotram. Our forefathers worshipped Vishnu and performed the Agnihotra fire-sacrifice. We are of the Aarvela Niyogi branch of Brahmins, and our family deities were Veerabhadra and Bhadrakali.

Venkata Subba Rao, Satyanarayana, Viswanadham, and Kalyana Ramamurthy — these were my elder brothers. I lost my father while still a child, and ours became a broken-down, struggling middle-class family. I had two elder sisters as well, Lakshmi Devamma and Shakuntala.

My father held the trusteeship of the Kotappakonda temple. Ours was a family of poets — in earlier times, the Rayasam family had served as scribes and poets in royal courts.

For weddings and festivals, it was our custom to take out Lord Veerabhadra's palanquin in procession. In every family it was the tradition to name the eldest son Veerabhadra, and the eldest daughter Bhadramma. We — my brothers, my sisters, and I — were born to my father's second wife. His first wife had three children: Veereswara Sarma, Mahalakshmamma, and Durga.

Our Lineage

A gift for poetry ran in our family blood. When the tahsildars set up training classes to teach the village accountants, the karanams, the new system of land survey, my uncle wrote a witty, satirical verse about it, calling it a 'survey ordeal.' My father did not write a great deal of poetry himself, but he was a scholar deeply learned in Sanskrit and Telugu. He would travel as far as Madras over court cases, and he also had a working knowledge of Tamil.

My Childhood

My whole childhood was spent in Govindapuram, in a deeply religious atmosphere — every stir of life came wrapped in worship and ritual observance. The village's own temples were dedicated to Janardhana, Anjaneya, Shiva, and Veerabhadra. There was a Veerabhadra temple built back in the days of the Chalukya kings, though by the time of my childhood it stood in ruins. My father had five brothers. The eldest introduced himself, in verse, as "Karanikodyoga Sankalita Satpravarti Bhadratmudu Veera Bhadra Mantri" — a minister of good conduct who held the office of village accountant; and the fourth of my uncles as "Shankaracharya Krutabhashya Jaala Vedi Ramya Sadguna Venkataramana Sachivudu" — a minister well versed in the commentaries of Shankaracharya, a man of pleasing virtue. My own father styled himself "Amara Ranga Nayaka Budhundu" — Ranganayaka the wise. That was how each of them introduced himself, in verse of his own making.

My Mother

My mother could neither read nor write, but through my father she picked up a great deal of learning simply by listening. She was consumed with ritual observance — strict rules of ceremonial purity, daily worship, prayers and austerities, fasting on every Ekadashi, and the annual memorial rites and death-anniversary observances she kept faithfully every year. When my father died suddenly, our family was plunged into severe financial hardship.

My father was a scholar of Sanskrit. He would recite meditation verses and commentaries on the Bhagavad Gita. My mother could not read or write — she could barely manage her own signature — and yet, from listening alone, she came to know a great many of the deep truths of Hindu philosophy.

With great difficulty I finished high school in Narsaraopet, and then went on to Andhra Christian College in Guntur for my higher studies. My health was not good, and my studies were interrupted for two years.

Early Pursuits

From my childhood I had a strong love for both English and Telugu. I wrote poetry in Telugu — I would compose verses and songs of one kind or another and recite them to my fellow students. I even performed small-scale ashtavadhanams, the traditional feat of composing verses on the spot while holding several other mental tasks in mind at once. Even as a student I trained myself to extemporize verses with ease. I had a name as the best student in my class, but behind the scenes I was quite the mischief-maker. I dabbled in politics too — during the Quit India movement I joined my friends in putting up wall posters and doing whatever else the cause called for.

Opposition to Christianity

From my childhood I held Christians, and the Bible, in low regard. Christianity, I thought, was a foreign religion — something the lower castes, who had no religion of their own, had simply latched onto! I used to mock Christianity as a laughable faith.

I would harass the village preachers with all sorts of twisted questions. From childhood I would remark that Christians lived out on the edge of the village, and that no one in his right mind would ever take up such a mistaken religion. There were many scriptures belonging to many religions, I reasoned, but among them the Bible was a cheap, worthless book, not even worth reading. Those were the sentiments I grew up with. It is true, as Scripture itself says, that Satan blinds the minds of unbelievers.

Excessive Devotion

From childhood I grew up steeped in devotion to the gods. I had Shankaracharya's hymns of praise by heart. As a boy I used to play with my childhood friend Nageshwaram — our favorite games were things like "performing penance" and "having a god appear before us." I would recite Ravana's hymn to Shiva, the Ekaveerigini, from memory. My mother would watch us and marvel.

Across from our house in Govindapuram lived a Nambi family, and I spent much of my time in their home. Studies came to me easily, without much effort, but even so I had no real interest in them. After a while I took a job in the Revenue Department, then gave it up. I could not settle anywhere. I was restless within, dissatisfied, with no peace of soul. I read one philosophical volume after another written by Sivananda Saraswati.

Education

While I was studying at Narsaraopet High School, I became friends with a Christian boy named Nathanael. He was mad about poetry — he would put the Lord Jesus's parables and teachings into verse and bring them to me, and I would correct and polish them for him. Nathanael was a good friend of mine, but I despised his religion, even though I never criticized it in front of him.

Illness

Well, I had to give up my studies partway through Intermediate college on account of my health, and went to stay with my elder brother in Kakinada. He worked in the Forest Department. My eldest sister, who had been widowed in childhood, was also living with him, and I stayed there too. While I was there, something happened that I could never have imagined. A man named Sutrala Seshagiri Rao came to our house. He was a Madhwa Brahmin who taught Telugu to foreigners, and he had a fine reputation among the Western missionaries as a great teacher.

Friendship with the Missionaries

In the course of conversation, Seshagiri Rao happened to mention me, and said he would take me on as his assistant to teach Telugu to the missionaries. I agreed, and my brother gave his consent as well. Teaching Telugu to the white sahibs, I traveled all over — Kakinada, Ramachandrapuram, Ooty, Kodaikanal. My work was to teach them Telugu, to teach them grammar, and to keep up conversation with them in the language. The Gospel of John was the reader I was given as our textbook.

The Little Big Book

I read that little book. I did not particularly care for it, but I read it because my job required it. At first, the language in it struck me as strange, distinctive. I would read the Gospel of John in English and set it beside the Telugu to work out its meaning, and as I went verse by verse, breaking down every single word grammatically to teach it to them, the sahibs were astonished. One of them told me, "You're a young man, yet you're teaching us the lessons of John's Gospel like an experienced teacher. You will go far." Another one took me aside privately and said, "You read this and explain it so well — if you would only believe this very Gospel of John that you are teaching, you would become the finest preacher in the whole Telugu country! God will bless you."

Prophecy

Some of the sahibs asked me, "Shall we send you to seminary — will you go?" I laughed and said, "As if I would ever become a Christian preacher!" Yet in God's own purpose, a preacher is exactly what I was to become. Another of them even spoke a kind of prophecy over me: "One day you will become a great preacher, proclaiming the gospel." And indeed — that very prophecy came true.

I read the Gospel of John hundreds of times over, and had the missionaries read it aloud to me as well, until I knew what was in every single chapter. But — Jesus Christ was my Savior, not my Lord! I told myself I had no need of Christianity, and built up a whole theology to convince myself that I was not really opposed to Christ at all. I manufactured every kind of clever argument to keep Christ from entering my heart while still defending my own way of thinking. I told myself that even Jesus Christ's own words could not really be the words of God. Believing in any god at all, I reasoned, amounted to the same thing — why should there be any competition among the gods? Why argue over which god is greater? It's enough, I thought, if everyone simply agrees they are all the same. I argued with the missionaries that changing one's religion was wrong. God has so many incarnations, I said — Jesus Christ is simply one incarnation among the rest — and that is as far as I would go. Yet the missionaries loved me so much that no matter how much I criticized them, they never once held it against me.

I read many of the books they had with them, thinking that through them my own learning would grow. That I would ever accept Jesus and become a Christian was something I could not have imagined even in a dream. But God's purpose for me was altogether different. Missionaries had traveled thousands of miles, learned our language, and were preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ to the people here — their dedication, I had to admit, was admirable. Every so often a thought would occur to me: why did they always stay out on the edges of the village, among the lower castes? I could not understand it. If Jesus was Lord of all, I wanted to ask, why did they choose to live and work only among the lower castes? — but I never asked that question of anyone.

Inner Struggle

An indescribable struggle began in me while I was living in Mahbubnagar. I had a close companionship with a missionary named H.J. Crain. He and I would spend hours together every single day discussing spiritual matters. My conversations with him turned out to be a great blessing to me — the most tangled truths of theology became as plain to me as something held in the palm of my hand.

Whose Fault Was It?

I must say a word here. I read the Bible meaning to catch it out in error. Instead, the Bible read me, and caught the errors in me. As if the Bible were just an ordinary book! It is a Scripture that came into being through the very breath of God. The word that goes out from the mouth of God gives life. It is a tool for spiritual surgery.

Mission-Compound Politics

I taught Telugu to every missionary there. I prepared them for their Telugu examinations. I taught them conversation and grammar. I taught them the whole substance of the Gospel of John and had them recite it back to me. We ourselves lived right there on the mission compound.

On that compound there would be one missionary, and around him a handful of Christian families, a school, a church, a hospital. A number of satellite dependents would always be circling around the missionary. The politics of a mission compound are something nobody can ever quite get to the bottom of. Watching some people curry favor under the missionary's shelter, jockeying for authority, carrying tales about one another to him — all of it looked like sheer confusion to me. And yet, in spite of all that, the Christian message had taken hold of my heart. I tried to understand the Christians themselves with sympathy.

A missionary arriving from a foreign land would build himself a bungalow some distance outside the village. He would need workers — people for the cooking, people for the garden — and so a few families would settle down and make their homes on the compound. In time, teachers, nurses, and doctors working for the mission institutions would come to live on that same compound as well. I lived among them for a while.

Reading the Word

For some time I lived there in Narayanpet with my family. I studied the Bible, God's own Word, closely and carefully. I kept turning it over in my mind. I read one commentary after another. The truth of the Bible stood me up like a defendant in the dock. It took several years before I came to realize that the Bible was no ordinary book, but held within it a truth charged with power. In Narayanpet I was teaching Telugu to a missionary named Crain. That town was a center of the Arya Samaj. While I lived there, an indescribable transformation began to come over me, stage by stage.

Transformation

I, who had once sharply criticized every weakness I found in Christians, now began to feel love and sympathy toward them instead. I would spend hours on end with village preachers, listening patiently to everything they had to say. A deep friendship grew up between us. I began to recognize their simplicity, and the love of Christ that was in them. Though morally weak in many ways, these people who had staked everything on the righteousness of Christ began to win my affection and my regard.

Satan's Attacks

Two or three times, Satan planted baseless doubts about Christ in me, and drove me away — yet each time I came back again. A fierce struggle began deep within me. On one side was the magnet-like pull of the Lord Jesus; on the other, my attachment to my relatives and friends. In this way a tug-of-war began inside me. Jesus Christ wanted me wholly — but if I surrendered myself completely to Him, I would be cut off from my own relatives. I found myself caught, unable to see my way either forward or back. One day I walked out beyond the village and climbed up onto a mound, and sat there a long while. I thought hard, weighing carefully what I stood to lose if I accepted Christ against what I stood to suffer if I rejected Him.

Counting the Cost

My relatives and kinsmen would mock me, taunting me for mixing with the lower castes. But what was so wrong with mixing with them? In politics, a sacrifice like that would have earned a man a fine reputation; but where Christ was concerned, it turned into a disgrace instead. Many a political leader had gone out among the lower castes and come back a great leader for it. But for Christ's sake, this became a cross that I had to bear. And yet — what did it matter? For Christ's sake I would become one of the lower castes myself. Let everyone go on criticizing me for it; that very thing became my soul's own delight, my soul's own peace.

The Inner Conflict

That was exactly 50 years ago now — the year 1955. That night is one I can never forget as long as I live. An anguish began deep within me that I cannot put into words. My very soul was afraid to go outside the camp for Christ's sake and bear the reproach that would come with it. I trembled violently; every nerve in my body seemed to give way beneath me. I tossed and turned on my bed. Around midnight an unbearable ache set in behind my head. Even so, sleep finally overtook me — it was a dream-like state — and in it I found myself arguing with the man inside my own self.

The Argument Within

"You are a student of Jesus — you are not His disciple." "Why not? Isn't gaining knowledge of Him enough?" "It is not enough. A disciple must carry his teacher's yoke." "Must one really pay such a price, just to become a disciple?" "That I cannot do." "Without paying the price, you will never obtain what is most excellent."

In this way I wrestled fiercely with the mind inside my own mind. I could not see which way to turn. There was nothing attractive about 'Christianity' as such — and yet, if one searched carefully, Christ Himself is revealed in the Bible! Christ has been buried under mounds of religion, and that is exactly why men like me find it such hard labor to go looking for Him. I say this plainly, without hesitation: it is Christians themselves who bear the blame for that.

Not Religion, But Life

Jesus did not come to give mankind a religion — He came to give life. In the hands of today's followers, every religion has become nothing but a lifeless corpse. Christ is alive. He belongs to every age. He stands above and beyond religion. It was this Christ, unencumbered by religion, that I wanted. Him alone would I worship. That longing rose up fiercely within me. However it happened, by the Lord's grace I was finally able to come to a decision. "Whatever else may be true, Jesus — You alone are my Savior, my Lord," I said, firmly and finally, and sat up with a start. I was startled awake, and went back over the whole experience in my mind once more.

The Revelation

The following night, it was as though scales fell from my eyes — I was given a vision. I received the Lord's own revelation. Galatians 2:20 rang out and echoed in the very depths of my heart: "I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And the life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Freedom from Karma

This verse became a benediction to me. Through it, the inner meaning of death and life was laid open to me. I am in Christ; I have been joined together with Him — and so the experience of being crucified with Him became my own. That a sinner could be united with Christ simply by receiving Him — this itself is grace. This was freedom from the burden of my sin, and death to my own self-will. I am no more; Christ has taken possession of me. This is no longer my life — it is Christ's own life, being lived out in me. Christ came into me and gave me a resurrected life. I — am no longer I. The Christ within me is living His own life in me. The Christ of history stepped down into my own experience; He who was crucified rose again. The more I dwelt on this truth, the more compassion I came to feel even for myself.

The Geometry of Sin

I came to feel disgust, even hatred, toward my own self-centeredness. I could find nothing good in myself. Right up to the very point where Christ entered me, my whole past life had been one unbroken line of sin — sin stretched out, extended without a break. My thirty years of life had simply been sin; every part of my life that was without Christ was sin. Then I turned and looked upon the cross, and for the very first time, folded my hands and bowed before Christ upon the cross.

My Spiritual Birth

September 26, 1955, is my spiritual birthday. When I was born from my mother's womb, that was a birth into sin — that is the verdict my first birthday pronounces. But this second birthday declares my freedom from sin. Christ Himself is my Redeemer. This is victory. The conflict within me came to an end. Everything was new to me now. That very day I sent a telegram to a brother named H.J. Crain. He came at once. "I have put my trust in Christ," I told him. "I believe in Him with my whole heart. Whatever consequences may follow, there is no turning back for me now. Baptize me." "All this is the Lord's own glory," he said. "We have been praying for you."

Baptism

"Why do you want to be baptized?" he asked me.

"Christ is my spiritual bridegroom," I said. "I must obey His word. He told those who believe to be baptized. This is the first milestone in my journey with Him." It was pouring rain that day. Paying no heed to it, at the appointed hour, with a few preachers walking along with me, I took the step of baptism at a large well in Narayanpet. A great intensity of spirit came over me. My heart longed with all its strength to experience Christ fully. I had entered into a state of union with the Lord.

The Fruit of Faith

My faith bore fruit at once. The Spirit brought me into the body of Christ — a divine experience. His promises began to be fulfilled in me. New birth, the Holy Spirit coming into me, being sealed by Him, the baptism of the Holy Spirit — all of these, in the fullness of the Holy Spirit, stirred me up for ministry.

My Wife

Let me tell briefly, here, about my wife Varalakshmi. She too came from a strict, orthodox Brahmin family. It was not until four years after I had come to believe in the Lord that her own heart began to change. So many objections were tangled up within her. It is no easy thing to break free from the bars of idol-worship and tradition. But God's Spirit convicted her of sin, of judgment, and of righteousness. Through John 3:36 she came to salvation. She turned from the opposition she had shown toward me, showed obedience to the Lord, was baptized in the city of Hyderabad, and became a help fit for me — my equal partner in the ministry.

Together we traveled to so many places. While we were living in Mahbubnagar we began our radio ministry, and she served right alongside me. She carried on correspondence with countless Hindu women and brought many of them to Christ. Through all the many hardships we bore for Christ's sake, she stood by me, and as my partner gave me such great comfort and support. I will always be grateful to God for her.

Steps of Victory

God kept leading us on in ministry, from one victory to a still greater one. As circumstances required, and by God's own leading, we moved from Mahbubnagar to Kurnool, and from there to Guntur. In the year 1969 I was ordained for ministry at Calvary Church, Mahbubnagar.

A Vision for Ministry

While we were living in Guntur, the Lord showed me a great vision — to minister among my fellow Hindus. Romans 9:3 kept coming back to my mind, again and again. The question confronted me: what must I do for my own kinsmen, my own flesh and blood? So many of my close relatives were still tormented by false ideas about Christ. I resolved that I would simply lift up Christ, and He Himself would draw many to Himself — and with that conviction I gave myself to this ministry. That the whole Brahmin community should remain far from Christ was, to me, a pain like broken bones. When such spiritual riches were to be found in Christ, it made no sense at all to go on rejecting Him over baseless misgivings.

The Sacred Thread

On the very day I accepted Jesus Christ as my own personal Savior and Lord, I wrote this verse down in my diary. That same day I took off my sacred thread. I bid farewell to the evening prayer rites I had learned on the day of my upanayanam, my sacred-thread initiation.

The Body of Christ

"Your cross, O Lord, is now my sacred thread, the ceaseless song of my soul's own revolution; to me, that itself is my evening hymn of praise, O God!"

I am now 77 years old. The first thirty years of my life were, one might say, 'Before Christ'; the second part of it feels as though the Christian era began in our family with me.

Once, one of my relatives said to me, "Now tell me, why on earth did you leave Hinduism? If you thought something in it was wrong, you should have set about reforming it yourself, if you had it in you." My answer to him was this: "Why should I want a religion that I myself have to change? What I need is a Christ who can change me."

Radio Ministry

Time and again, the fullness of the Spirit brought one victory after another into my life of ministry. For fifteen years I labored without ceasing on the radio, proclaiming the gospel. Heaven seems to draw nearer with every passing day. I wrote many songs. From Genesis all the way through to Revelation, I taught the whole counsel of God, not leaving out a single verse, exactly as it was given. I received abuse, insult, and rejection from people; some of it I simply refused to take to heart. I traveled to countless places, and in some of them I was met with humiliation. I am still learning to live simply, without pretension, at the feet of Christ. In this world I need nothing but Jesus. Who else is there for me in heaven but Him? Having fought in the battlefield, I have tried to let the strength the Lord gives be displayed even through my own weakness.

The Fruit of Ministry

God blessed our ministry so greatly. My elder sister, in the closing stage of her life, bowed before the Lord and went to be with Him. Day and night, without letting go, we keep on praying for the salvation of our relatives. God's grace toward us has spread out so wide. In response to the radio ministry, a number of congregations sprang up in Guntur, Krishna, and West Godavari districts. In fellowship with the missionaries I found spiritual and emotional satisfaction, though in the later years some differences of opinion arose with a few of them. From the very beginning I held myself to a strict standard regarding Western funds.

That same resolve continued, by God's grace, right to the end. I experienced loving fellowship, without reservation, with every branch of Christianity. I tasted Christian love in great abundance. I am now 77 years old, and within me there is a life filled to overflowing with the grace God has poured out.

Bible Translation Work

God used me as an instrument in the translation of the 'Holy Bible' under the Living Bible organization. At present I am engaged in the New International Version translation work. That I should be even a small part of this great undertaking is a special mark of the Lord's grace! God has withheld nothing good from me, in any respect. In Guntur town, my own home district, God exalted us so greatly in His service. It is said that a prophet finds no honor in his own country — yet God greatly honored us in His service right here in Guntur. I have baptized so very many people, and performed so many weddings. The experiences we had while carrying out this work are unforgettable. Just as King David recovered everything he had once lost, I now find myself, in this decade of my life, recovering the very relatives I once lost. Praise be to God.

Letter Ministry

With my own hand I have written, and go on writing, several thousand letters. There are people who, in the midst of some crisis, poured out their hearts to me without holding anything back. I would pray, and the letters I wrote back to them became a support to their peace of mind and the steadiness of their faith. One headmaster had my letters bound together, and read them over and over, until, in the very last hours of his life, he accepted the Lord. These letters kept some people from going through with attempts on their own lives. Praise be to God.

Writing Ministry

The Spandana monthly magazine stands today as the foremost among Christian magazines — a publication with a circulation running into many thousands. God has blessed it so richly. Every month, readers wait eagerly for it, looking forward to the next issue. My spiritual son Devasahayam now carries the magazine ministry forward. The Lord has blessed me so greatly, both in writing books and in composing songs. The songs I wrote under the Lord's inspiration have won wide love and acclaim among the Telugu people at large. I have written a great many books, and all of them have been published.

In all these different forms of ministry, I have had so many brothers and sisters who helped me along the way. Above all, the encouragement my wife gave me is beyond what words can express. Even while I was away on ministry tours twenty-five days out of every month, she ran our household with such great patience. We have released many cassettes, and we are praying now about releasing further cassettes of sermons and songs.

Failures

I have also seen no small number of failures in my life. The people who love me know my weaknesses — ask them, and find out for yourselves. Whether they will actually tell you or not is another matter! Being easily deceived is one of my weaknesses. With such a strong desire to go everywhere, there were still so many places I was never able to reach. I have at times behaved harshly toward those who did not love the Lord, and have been misunderstood for it. Not knowing the ways of the world, I have appeared proud to some. But there are so very many dear ones who have understood my heart. To them, my thanks.

I cannot forget the message Mr. Masilamani gave on the occasion of my birthday, February 29th: "In Christ, this man gave up whatever fortune the world owed him. He hardly ever brings up his former caste, except when it is truly necessary. Once he sits down to write, he does not set his pen down until he is finished. Others cannot easily grasp what is going on within him — only if you watch him closely can you begin to understand this man." He is a good brother who has known me well, and, in the same way, all the Christian leaders of today hold me in great affection.

Earlier Years

I was first ordained as a minister in the Mennonite Brethren Church. But my ministry soon spread out beyond the bounds of that one fellowship. H.J. Crain, the missionary who baptized me, remembered me right up until he fell asleep in the Lord. Likewise, a missionary sister named Miss Edgar labored so hard on our behalf — a dear friend to us — and she too has fallen asleep in the Lord. Rev. P.V. Blatters was the brother who conducted my ordination service; he too is with the Lord now. So many garlands of varied experience still hang across the courtyard of my life.

Key Bible Verses

There are four Bible verses that have gone on transforming me, revolutionizing me, all along the way: Romans 3:23, Romans 6:23, James 1:12, and Revelation 3:20. I am a burning stick that God plucked out of the fire. Whatever I am today is by the grace of God alone. This has been my own humble testimony. Before long, I hope to bring out the fuller story of my life's journey in the form of a book.

— Continuation for the New Edition —

Blessing

At present (December 2005) I am 77 years old. God has blessed us as an elderly couple. The experiences of these past three years have been so varied. All our children are grown now, each with a household of their own. But we are not alone — the Lord is with us. We have had many victories, and many setbacks too. Physically, our health has declined, but the Lord keeps showing His surpassing strength in the midst of our weakness. Some years back, God granted a great victory in the Viswasavani word-ministry — the entire Bible, from Genesis through Revelation, was recorded once again. The Lord guided the work through without a single hindrance to the ministry. We have traveled to the Gulf countries and to America. I have visited nearly every district headquarters in Andhra Pradesh, preaching the gospel, and God has given wonderful results. Just recently (November 2005) Mrs. Araarye underwent major surgery. The Lord preserved her from a life-threatening condition. The hospital bill came to more than two hundred thousand rupees. God provided for us in ways beyond what we had imagined, and took us by surprise. So many people prayed for us. Because of the God who hears prayer, we boast greatly in Him.

Spiritual Family

Our spiritual family across Andhra Pradesh has grown wide. Our spiritual son Devasahayam has given us so much love and support. God keeps speaking to me directly about so many things, and He has given us the vision and the resolve to bring these out as small booklets. The burden we carry for our relatives keeps growing heavier in our hearts. God has given me the grace and strength to write so many more songs, and cassettes and CDs go on being recorded. Praise be to God. He guards us every single moment from the wicked powers of Satan. Whether in sunlight or in moonlight, in every season and every circumstance, He is the God who keeps us.

We have four children — Vijaya, Pushpiraj, Jyotsna, and Prasanna. All of them are married now, and have settled into various careers. We now have four grandsons and two granddaughters, and one great-grandson besides. Looking back over all of it, it feels like nothing but the abundance of God's grace.

My Hope in Ministry

Before the call of glory comes for me, I hope to leave behind an abundance of messages and sermons, in the form of cassettes and in the form of books. Please keep us in your intercessory prayers. Together with Mrs. Murthy, I send you our greetings.

With my love in the Lord Jesus, Yours, RRK Murthy.

My Background

My name is Varalakshmi. My childhood home was in Guntur. I was born into a strict, orthodox Brahmin family. I was married to Mr. RRK Murthy in my fifteenth year. As soon as we were married, I went to live with him in Mahbubnagar. He worked in the high schools there, and in his free time he taught Telugu to the missionaries. I, for my part, was deeply caught up in idol-worship. My mother had taught me, from my childhood, every vow, fast, austerity, and act of ritual worship. Since he was my husband, I tried my best to fulfill my duty as a devout Hindu wife. Every single day I would go and worship at one temple or another. Since he went so often into the company of the white sahibs, I feared that they might somehow draw him into their religion — and to make sure that never happened, I worshipped the whole host of thirty-three million gods all the more, and kept every festival with even greater determination. I noticed that Murthy garu himself seemed rather indifferent to all this, and that only made me cling to my own religious devotion all the more fiercely. After we set up our household in Narayanpet, various people would come by now and then to speak to me about the Bible, but I never made any room for it. Idol-worship gave me only a passing, temporary satisfaction. Our daughter Vijaya spent much of her early years being raised by my mother. After that, a son, Prithviraj, was born to us.

I can never forget what happened that day. It was November of 1962. Murthy garu was, at that time, teaching Telugu to the missionaries in Sanghatabad.

Turmoil

It was a Sunday. We were living on the mission compound. All the women were on their way to church. I watched from the window — everyone was heading to church with their children. I was not feeling well in my body; it felt as if I had a fever. Murthy garu was away, out of town. For some reason, the thought came to me that I ought to go to church. I got ready at once, took my little boy on my hip, and went. That day the preacher was speaking about what comes after this life, and about judgment, and I grew afraid. He preached that to reject Jesus Christ was to reject heaven itself, and to welcome hell in its place.

The Word Spoke to Me

Every word of that message felt as though it were aimed straight at me, driven home with force. When everyone else had gone, I stayed behind, sitting there unable to move. Some woman helped me and got me home. I lay down, but sleep would not come. A New Testament happened to be there, and I picked it up and opened it. John 3:36 caught my eye: "Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever rejects the Son will not see life, but God's wrath remains on them."

Soul-Searching

That verse set up a cry deep within my soul. I had not been obedient to Him, and so I had no life. Worse still, it seemed to me that God's wrath was building up over me, day by day. My heart was torn apart with fear. "Lord," I cried out through my tears, "forgive me — I accept you right now as my own personal Savior." God, who never breaks His word, came into my heart. I opened the door of my heart to Him. I heard His call. He forgave me. With His own hand He washed away all those past sins of mine.

The Assurance of Salvation

As soon as my husband came home, I told him everything, in full detail. His joy knew no bounds. I was baptized at Bethel Brethren Church in Hyderabad. From that day on, I worked alongside my husband in ministry, going with him to many places and giving my testimony. God used me as His instrument among women. God has blessed us with four children. Please pray for our family. God so loved the world — but He has loved us who are saved even more, and has placed us in this world as His ambassadors, to love others on His behalf. The burden for the salvation of our relatives rests upon us. Please pray for us. Praise be to God!

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