I’d rather die from a Cobra bite

A gruelling trip to North India, a sweltering night without electricity – and the threat of cobras outside the window – tested our comfort and perspective. What began in complaints and exhaustion turned into a powerful lesson as we witnessed persecuted leaders worship with joy. God reminded us that discomfort is nothing compared to His glory, and true belonging is found in His presence.

It was the dead of night when we finally arrived in North India after a gruelling journey – a long flight, a turbulent landing and hours on the dangerous roads. Stepping out of the air-conditioned car, we were instantly swallowed by a wall of heat and humidity. The thermometer read 37 degrees Celsius, and the air felt heavy, thick with moisture.

Our gracious host greeted us warmly and led us to our room. All we wanted was a night of rest before a packed schedule at a leader’s conference – eleven talks in five days. Instead, we found an unforgettable setup: two single beds with rough wooden frames, mosquito nets draped loosely. 

There was a barred window ajar, and a ceiling fan whirring with stubborn optimism. 

Just before leaving us, our host added casually, “There are two things you should know. First, the electricity comes from a generator and will shut off in thirty minutes.” 

At this moment we pictured the ceiling fan slowly grinding to a stop. Then he continued, “Second, since you’re on the ground floor – and there are cobras in the area – you’ll want to keep the window shut.”

“Cobras? Did you say cobras?” we asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes, cobras,” he replied matter-of-factly. “God bless, and have a good night’s sleep.”

With that, he was gone. 

Spurred on by thoughts of cobras, we shut the window tight, crawled into bed and braced ourselves. As promised, thirty minutes later the power went out, the fan died, and the air grew oppressively still.

Have you ever been in an extremely hot place with no air moving? Think sauna.

Sleep was impossible. Sweat glues us to the wooden beds. Hours dragged by until Sandra whispered, “are you asleep?” 

Normally, I would pretend not to hear, but this time I quickly replied, “no.” 

“Are you hot?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Then came the strangest midnight question I’d ever been asked: “Would you rather die of heat exhaustion or a cobra bite?” 

After debating, we chose the cobra risk, flung open the barred window and let in whatever air we could.

The Morning Shift

Morning came with little sleep and lots of complaints. Why did we come here? This is miserable. How can we possibly minister like this? I wish we knew about the electricity. 

We whined. We grumbled like pampered Westerners. And then God humbled us.

Because once the conference began, we saw the wonder.

These leaders – men and women of God – were persecuted for their faith. Their faith was not theoretical but embodied, lived out at great cost. They loved Jesus with a deep, sacrificial love. They carried the truth of Jesus’ words:

“Do you remember what I told you? ‘A slave is not greater than the master.’ Since they persecuted me, naturally they will persecute you” (John 15:20 NLT). 

An yet, their joy was unshakable. These were true servant leaders.

The services were unlike anything we had experienced. The presence of God was as tangible as the humid air around us. Children sat at the front for the three-hour services worshiping, listening, engaging the whole time. That alone was a miracle – as any parent knows. 

What we learned

God taught us that night and in the days that followed  that:

• • A little discomfort is nothing compared to His glory.

• • The things we consider ‘essential” often pale beside His presence.

• • Wherever His people gather in His name, He is there.