3. The Biggest Shock of His Life
Chapter 3
The Biggest Shock
of His Life
The malaria Sundar had contracted wracked his body for most of the summer, leaving him feeling listless and depressed. As fall approached, when school would start again, Sundar could not imagine walking six miles a day to school and back. Reluctantly he allowed his father to make inquiries about reenrolling at the nearby mission school.
Despite Sundar’s previous disruptive behavior, the school principal, the Reverend Newton, agreed to have him back. And so Sundar returned to his old school. He no longer heckled his teachers or threw stones at them, but he did not learn much from them either. After suffering through malaria, Sundar now found that his mind wandered easily, and he often slept between classes. He became convinced that the lingering effects of the malaria would kill him before he ever graduated from school, and that prospect made him gloomier than ever.
His gloom quickly turned to anger, which he did not direct at his teachers this time but at the Christian God. Finally, one day after Bible study, Sundar asked his teacher to sell him a copy of the New Testament. The teacher readily agreed, and his smile told Sundar that he was hoping for a change in attitude as Sundar read the book. But Sundar had no intention of reading the New Testament. He had other plans for it.
That evening Sundar called his friends together in the yard of the Singh house. He disappeared into the kitchen and emerged a few minutes later with a bundle of sticks and a can of kerosene. He piled the sticks on the ground and then doused them with kerosene. When he was satisfied that the sticks had soaked up enough of the accelerant, Sundar laid the tin aside and struck a match. He dropped it onto the sticks, and with a whoosh they leapt into flames. The glow of the fire filled the yard and danced on the faces of the boys standing around it. When Sundar was sure he had everyone’s attention, he stepped forward and dramatically held up the New Testament. Without saying a word he opened the book and began tearing the pages from it one by one. He dropped them into the fire and watched as they burst into flame.
At first Sundar felt elated, but as the flames curled around the edges of the last pages of the New Testament, he felt a surge of remorse pulse through him. He could picture his mother’s face. He wondered what she would think of his burning the Christian scriptures. She had taught him that every religion had value. Sundar reminded himself that he doubted this was true. Besides, the Christian God had not struck him dead for burning the New Testament. Obviously the Christian God was not a live God. He was just a collection of lies gathered in a book. But then another thought hit Sundar. What about the Hindu gods and the Sikh gurus? Were they true, or were they just lies as well?
Suddenly Sundar was gripped with the need to know for certain. He was still sick and depressed from the malaria, and he felt he could no longer take his mother’s word on anything. After all, God, whoever or whatever He might be, had taken his mother from him. And unlike his older brothers, Sundar did not think life was worth living unless he had answers to the God question once and for all. As he thought about this, he heard the whistle of a train in the distance as it passed close by Rampur, and it gave Sundar an idea.
It was a strange idea, but it would not go away. On the third night after burning the New Testament, Sundar lay awake thinking about it. Finally he decided he had to act. He climbed off his sleeping mat, pulled his robe around him, and silently made his way to the bathing room at the back of the house. Mechanically he drew water from the well and poured it over himself. He shivered with cold, but that was the point. Tonight was the night he would know for sure whether there was a God. There was an inevitability about his actions as he put his robe back on and retreated to his room. Sundar sat on his sleeping mat and prayed. “God, if You are there, reveal Yourself to me tonight. If You do not, I will kill myself in the morning, because I cannot live another day with all of these unanswered questions.” Then he sat and waited.
Sundar’s decision to kill himself was not an idle threat. At five o’clock every morning the train to Lahore rolled past Rampur. If he had not received an answer from God by then, Sundar was determined to lie on the railway tracks and wait for the train to roll over him. He had decided that it would be better to be dead than to continue his meaningless life.
One hour passed, and then two. Sundar was still wide awake and listening for any sound, any sign that God might be there. Four thirty rolled by, and Sundar’s mind began to think about the train and what he would have to do. He had decided the easiest and quickest way to end his life was to rest his head right on the rail and let the train crush it. But right in the middle of this morbid thought Sundar became aware of a glow in the room. At first he thought it was something outside shining through the bedroom window. But the shutter on the window was closed. The glow grew brighter and brighter until it became a piercing white light. Then the figure of a man appeared at the center of the light. Whether the figure was actually in his bedroom or just in his imagination, Sundar could not tell. All he knew was that what he was seeing was real to him. He strained to see the figure in the light, and that is when he received the biggest shock of his life. He had expected it to be Krishna or perhaps Buddha, but it was neither. Instead he recognized the figure as Jesus Christ. But how could it be? Sundar was convinced that Jesus Christ was long dead. Yet here He was, His piercing eyes burrowing into Sundar’s heart.
Then the figure spoke to him in perfect Hindustani. “How long will you persecute Me? I have come to save you. You were praying to know the right way. Why do you not take it? I am the Way.”
At these words Sundar clambered onto his knees and began to pray. Fervently he asked Jesus Christ to forgive him and change him.
The vision finally faded, and as Sundar got up from his knees, he heard the whistle of the train in the distance. But all thoughts of taking his life were now gone. Instead Sundar felt an incredible sense of peace and joy flood over him. He had to tell someone about what had happened. Amazingly, the Jesus the missionaries talked about was alive, and He was the true Son of God!
Sundar ran into his father’s bedroom. “Father, wake up! I have something to tell you,” he said, shaking his father awake.
Sher Singh opened his bleary eyes. “What is it?”
“Father, it is wonderful news. I have seen Him, Jesus Christ. He came to me in my room, and He spoke to me in Hindustani.”
Sundar’s father sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “What are you talking about, son?” he asked. “Three days ago you burned the Christian book, and now you are telling me you believe what it says? Are you touched in the head?”
Sundar stared at his father, desperate to think of a way to make him understand. But before he could do so, Sher Singh put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Go back to bed now, and in the morning you will realize how foolish you are being. It is just a dream, and you must not make yourself overexcited with such imaginings,” he said.
Sundar made his way back to his bedroom and lay down, but he could not sleep. How amazing it was to think that Jesus was alive. No wonder the missionaries came from halfway across the world to tell the people of India about their God. Sundar was sure that he would do the same now that he knew that everything the Christians had told him about God was true.
When breakfast was served later that morning, Sundar’s father busied himself talking to his older sons. Sundar’s heart dropped as he realized that his father was not going to bring up the subject of what had happened during the night. Sundar knew that he would have to do it himself.
“Father,” he began. “About last night…”
Sher Singh waved his hand to stop Sundar. “Do not worry about it, son. It was the product of reading Christian books at school. They have played tricks on your mind at night. I will not mention it again, and neither should you.”
“But, Father,” Sundar said, desperation rising in his voice, “it was all true! I did see Jesus in the night, and I had just bathed in cold water, so I am sure I was not asleep. Besides, I feel different this morning.”
Two of Sundar’s older brothers snickered.
“I do feel different,” he went on, “and I am not ashamed to say it. I am a Christian now, and I will be until the day I die.”
Sundar’s father’s voice was serious and low as he said, “Now that would be very foolish, son. You are a Sikh, Sundar, not a Christian. You are the son of the son of a Sikh, your brothers are Sikhs, you will marry a Sikh and raise your children to be Sikh. It is a proud and strong heritage. Do you understand me?”
Sundar nodded. Of course he understood. He had always expected these things for himself, until now. But the vision of Jesus Christ had changed everything, and he knew he had to be true to that vision.
“Father, I will do anything in the world to please you, except for this,” Sundar said respectfully. “I have been searching for God, and now I have found Him. I will not let Him go, even if my life depends on it.”
“It well might,” Sundar heard his oldest brother mumble under his breath.