Babies of Life

A friend of ours once told us of a visit he made to a remote village in India a few years ago.  The translator accompanying him told him the village had a unique distinction that separated it from the other villages that surrounded it: there had been no infant deaths in the last ten or fifteen years.  In India (as in other developing countries) infant mortality is higher than here, but  in rural areas it’s substantially higher than in cities.  Our friend explained his translator’s pride in the trivia; it was his home village.“Why do the babies not die here?”  Our friend’s curiosity impressed the translator.“Oh, it’s the midwife.  She has a chant.”Since it was a Hindu area with Hindu traditions, chanting was a common ritual, usually taken from ancient Hindu texts.  Even though he was a Christian Pastor and the woman a Hindu midwife, our friend couldn’t wait to meet the woman who delivered the “babies of life”.She was a odd looking woman, he told us.  Almost hunched over and shriveled, not much to look at.  She greeted him in great friendliness and welcomed him into her humble yard, sat him down at her small wooden table and served him tea.  Genuinely interested, our friend wasted no time in asking her about her love of children and midwifery.  Through the translator, the woman explained.“It is something that has been passed down to me.  The woman who came here was from Mumbai when it was Bombay.  She sang the chant and taught it to me; it is the reason that babies don’t die. It is a life chant.”“Can she show me?” Our friend asked.Without prompting, the woman began to sing in a sweet voice.  Our friend was surprised as the woman sang the tender lullaby in very broken English:Jesus loves me this I knowFor the Bible tells me so…Lit-tle ones to him belong – They are weak, but he is strong.

“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. ”

At this point in the story, joy broke loose.  There was surprise, there was celebration.  Our friend sang along with her and explained that the “babies of life” were protected by the giver of life.  Through pieced together stories and history, he was able to determine the midwife who had trained her had once lived in the area as a Christian Missionary.  Somehow, she taught the hunched woman to sing and believe.

The midwife asked our friend to follow her as she led him to different areas of the village to “tell the story” to others.  By the time she got to the group of men who were leaders in the village, she told them “He knows the God of the chant.  Listen to him and he’ll tell you why the babies don’t die.”  There was a wave of salvation that day in the village, each one a miracle.

I think of this story when I want to explain simple faith.  The same faith in Jesus that can save a socialite in New York City can also save a midwife in rural India.  Our belief in the power of God to save doesn’t have to be complete; our faith comes first, then the miracle of transformation.  We don’t need all of our complicated questions about why God moves the way He does answered before we believe; in fact we believe and the God moves.  Simple faith in a chant that turned out to be a Christian song that glorified God was all the midwife had, and it was somehow enough.  It turned out to be part of her story of faith in Jesus.  Can you imagine having that for your testimony?

Today we can put our faith in God, regardless of the circumstances.  We can trust Him to be the answer to every question that seems to big for us.  We extend whatever faith we have,   without fear.  Not tomorrow, when our faith is perfect, but now.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.  (Eph 3:20,21)

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Janet Rodriguez is a freelance writer and blogger who lives in Sacramento with Mario, her husband of twenty six years.  Together, they ventured out (and recently returned from) an African home in Johannesburg, where they served in full-time ministry.  When not writing, Janet splits her time between Grandchildren, family and friends, all of whom she greatly missed while in Africa.Twitter: @brazenprincess