Inside Out by NANCY REMPEL


Nothing says “inadequate” like leaving home with your pants on inside out. Sort of like noticing your shoes are mismatched after you are seated on public transport. I have done both in New Delhi, India, where we lived for over 14 years.


Our home was a short auto rickshaw ride from an


ancient and burgeoning population of Urdu speaking Muslims. The neighborhood of Mehrauli was home to famous historical sites including a Moghul palace and, most importantly, the tomb of Muslim saint, Qutbud- din Bakhtiar Kaki. Busloads of pilgrims trudged to the tomb daily to petition the saint. Barren wombs, distraught lovers, and the terminally ill clung to the dead saint, hoping he would speak to Allah on their behalf. Less dramatic, but equally pathetic were the slum dwellers nearby. Theirs was a dog-eat-dog world built among crumbling tombs, where homes were slapped together with scraps of corrugated steel, un- baked bricks, and burlap sacks, and spiritual lives were slapped together with bits of the Koran, odd rituals, and fear of the “evil eye.”


Enter illustrious servants of the living God. We


descended from our green and yellow auto rickshaw, resolved to walk and intercede in prayer for the 60,000 inhabitants of Mehrauli who were packed into 4.4 square kilometers (1.7 square miles). We chose a street and began walking, pouring out our hearts to God.


Focused on the spiritual darkness all around us,


we were heedless of the darkening skies above us. Raindrops began to fall, lightly at first, speckling our


clothes and shoes. We trudged on, praying big things for the little town. The rain matched our persistence and began to increase in severity. Instinctively, we looked for shelter. A bakery, wide open on two sides had already attracted a few others seeking refuge. We joined them. It seemed only respectable to make a pur- chase while using the premises, so I elbowed my way to the counter to place my order. We studied the other refugees with furtive glances while enjoying our snack. And they us.


I looked down at my shoes. I was not dressed for


the rain. Then something else caught my eye. Is that the rough inside seam of my baggy shalwars (Indian pants)?! Can it be? Are my shalwars inside out?! Sure enough. Encased in the crowd of Indian shoppers, there I stood with my pants on, inside out. In a culture that misses nothing with regards to appearance, I felt naked. And very foolish.


Without missing a beat, my compassionate hus-


band joined me in exiting the shop. Our prayerful, focused mood was in full retreat, and so were we. We looked for an empty auto rickshaw in which to disap- pear. Despite the auto rates, which had now increased with the rainfall, we made our escape.


Once at home, the offending shalwars were turned


right side out. We returned to the streets to pray, humbled, and recentered on a God who is able to use anyone who trusts in Him. Even the pathetic and har- ried with their pants on inside out.


Nancy and Don Rempel served as global partners


for many years in Pakistan and India. They are currently serving in British Columbia where they minister through evangelism, church planting, teaching the Bible, and writ- ing. The Rempels are members of Jansen Bible Church in Jansen, Nebraska.


FELLOWSHIP FOCUS, OCTOBER/NOVEMBER 2021 14


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24