I found the spiritual battle in India to be at times dark and intense. This is the story of one of those times.

On the way to revisit a village, we found a large number of people heading the same direction we were going. After inquiring of a few men who were walking along the way, our translator explained to us that these people were all headed to the local tomb of a Hindu priest.

Long ago, this priest had himself buried alive to prove his spirituality and power — and now the people of this area go there each Monday to worship and pray in the hopes of being healed of sickness and disease and to be blessed by this dead man.

As we approached the site, we saw the huge tomb. It looked like all those ancient Hindu temples I see on the Discovery Channel: There was gray smoke in the air, a loudspeaker echoing a chant across the countryside and fields surrounding us, and thousands of colorfully dressed people thronging towards the temple. Our translator suggested that we stop along the way to pray for these people.

So we headed to the temple.

The road was crowded with buses, cars and people. It was odd seeing so many people out in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. But the people had come far and wide to buy from the hundreds of vendors, and to worship and pray at the tomb of this dead Hindu priest.

The closer we got, the thicker the crowds became. My heart was heavy as I walked past the vendors and closer to the site of this tomb where the people were crying out to be healed by a man who could do absolutely nothing for them.

Everyone in our group felt a burden for these people. I began to pray fervently as tears welled up in my eyes for these people. I prayed that God would open their hearts and eyes to the emptiness of their religion. I prayed that the message that we were about to share in the next village might come back and reach them. I prayed that someone might return someday to this place and that the gospel would be shared.

Nothing spectacular happened in that moment. The people continued to worship this man. The blindness continued. Yet we left with a sense that God would indeed do great things in this place, someday. We planted some seeds; someone would some day follow to water.

* * *

From there we continued on to the village we had originally intended to visit. Oddly enough — or perhaps, providentially — we shared the story from Scripture of the demon possessed man, a story that declares God's power over evil spirits. We experienced an encouraging response from the village.

The villagers requested that we send more people to share the stories of Jesus and even suggested that we build a place to worship. They were so excited about the gospel and about the Son of the Most High God. They wanted to worship Him alone. They had found the One who had power over evil, the One who would forgive them of their sin and remove the sin and shame that was in their hearts.

It was at that moment that I knew what true joy was. I was experiencing just what it meant to be most satisfied when God is most glorified. I threw away any thought of the meaningless success that I chased after back in the States, and instead found significance in the spread of the gospel to these who had never heard it.

* * *

As I look back I realize that we were seeing God protecting us in some amazing ways. I never truly feared even though I knew in some ways that we were doing things that had gotten some of our translators mocked and beaten as they shared the gospel. I knew that Satan was not for our work among these people, and that we might even come across those who were demon-possessed. But when we actually came across these things, I realized that it wasn't something completely new to me.

God worked in such a powerful way in my life, in the lives of our translators, and in the lives of the unreached people with whom we share the gospel. We reaped the harvest that so many had been praying for. We relied on the Spirit of God for everything.

When we awoke in the morning, many of us experienced the side effects of eating Indian food on a regular basis. Our stomachs just couldn't take it, and many of us were quite sick. However, as soon as we gathered with our fellow team members and our translator and prayed over the coming hours, we had no further problems with our stomachs. Not once did we have to stop because of those issues. It was incredible. God worked in that relatively insignificant way to allow us to do significant things on behalf of His Kingdom.

It's an incredible feeling when you're walking in step with the Spirit, relying on Him for everything, from the small things to the great things. We needed help with our weak stomachs, and we needed major protection out on the field. Our translators, Christian believers themselves, had visited some of these villages before, and have been threatened, beaten, and seen co-workers killed for the faithful work in spreading the gospel.

When you hear stories directly out the mouths of men who have been beaten for the faith, you know you're taking part in the most thrilling and satisfying work you could ever do.

I found it stunning that Paul tells the Philippians, directly after speaking of the church needing to "shine as lights in the world," that there is a need to hold "fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. Even if I am poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. Likewise you should be glad and rejoice with me" (Phil. 2:16-18).

These men I met would give their all — and many had given their all — to the spread of the gospel.

* * *

Now as I sit here, remembering the faces of these men and women who had given their lives as an offering to God in incredible ways, I'm challenged. It's not that I need to somehow "do better" in sharing my faith with others. I'm challenged because their hearts were so in tune with the Spirit, so full of passion for the gospel, and so enraptured by their Savior. They knew they must share this with the world even amidst the intense difficulties that surrounded them.

As I boarded the plane back to the United States, I knew my heart must change. As soon as I landed, I decided that each day as I wake, I must choose between allowing my heart to desire earthly success that fades ... or to pursue a spiritual significance that will last for eternity.

Success or significance. What will my heart choose?