You are walking down the street with noise all around you. Car horns are constantly beeping. People all around you are speaking a different language, loudly bustling about. You smell strong scents of ethnic food, and while breathing in, you cough from the dust and open your eyes.
You see bare-footed, elderly men pushing bicycles along the dirt street with no shoes on, their carts overflowing and full with heavy equipment. Women sit indian style on the side of the road sewing blankets, or they carry large pots of water on their heads from a nearby well to take back to their homes. Animals roam the streets- dogs, cows, goats, occasionally a pig or two. Small children chase one another- barefoot, covered in dirt, smiles plastered on their faces. Older children carry their siblings on their hip or backs while their parents work in the sun for long hours of the day. Their day-long work consists of an earning of 60 Rupees. 60 Rupees is equal to 1 American dollar.
Welcome to India.
While on the bus driving to the hotel, I stared at the window. This is where God wanted me to be in this moment, in the midst of these people. In the city with the highest teen suicide rates in all of India, where we would share good news with them about how valuable they are. I saw the hard-working people. I saw the villages and the alleyways and the slums- and I wanted to go into them. I wanted to see and meet the people. I wanted to connect with them and be with them.
Once, I heard Damon Thompson speak about the prostitue woman in the bible. The townspeople had caught her in the midst of adultery and had planned to stone her. The bible says that Jesus approached her in the midst of the chaos and the angry people. He bent down to write something in the dirt, but it was not interpreted or disclosed in the bible. Then, he stood up and said, "Let the person without sin cast the first stone." The people fell silent, and one by one dropped their rocks. Then he looked at the woman and said "Go about your business, and sin no more." Giving her the commission to live a new lifestyle, away from adultery and prostitution.
Thompson mentions that in the moment that Jesus bent down to write in the dirt, he suspected that it was to reach the woman in a different way- to look up to meet her eyes as her face was cast downward in shame. He used this example as a metaphor of Jesus getting down in her dirt to reach out to her in the midst of her struggle. He didn't reach down to her from a high place, but he bent down to catch her eyes- to show his compassion for her, to be on her level, with her.
Children are often intimidated by adults towering over them, just like small animals. This is why we kneel down- to catch their eyes. To become approachable, on their level.
This was my desire when looking at these people on the street- to get in their dirt, and to look them in the eyes. Just because I am from the Western world, with pale skin and money in my pocket, does not make me any better than these sweet and hardworking people. I didn't want to be distant from them. I didn't want to be unfamiliar with their ways.
But with looking into someone's eyes, there is a cost. Or better yet, an exchange. There is an exchange of emotion- and the deeper things. To look into their eyes would be for me to feel their suffering, their desperation, their sense of hopelessness. Or to look into their eyes would be to experience little exposure of insensitivity, and the simple joys of being a child and being happy no matter what happens.
This exchange has forever shaken me, and changed me.
Initially, I did not understand. The only question that came to my mind when I pulled up to our hotel after seeing these people on the streets was "Why?" I remember tears of bitterness and sadness welling in my eyes. I remember feeling the anger of injustice in this world piercing my heart. I remember asking God that day, "Why, Lord? I'm not any better than these people. Why do I have things, and why do they go without? I would rather go without if not everyone can have what they need."
The imbalance is so prevalent. The injustice is so authentic. That world became more real to me than anything I had experienced. It isn't fair for them.
Zeal for the lost people has overtaken me. There has to be justice for the people who live lives barely making it by, being hungry, working so hard and earning so little to support so many. We are so badly in need of restoration in the earth. We need God to intervene so badly for these people, and I'm willing to stand in the gap and reach out. I refuse to live a life oblivious of the pain that others are in, and pretending like we don't need a divine intervention. When people ask me "How was your trip to India?" I reply with "Overwhelming. Different, and good." Because that is simply what it was. I can't lie and tell everyone that it was a perfect world, because it wasn't. I saw things that I had never seen before, and heard stories that stole my innocent view of the world. The harsh pains of the reality of the truth hit me during this trip, every day. And while it hurt at times, it was necessary. Because without this exposure, I would live naive to the needs of the world.
43,774 accepted Jesus into their hearts during this trip to India. 293 were healed from sickness, pain or disease. I'm so grateful to have gained these new brothers and sisters in Christ, and I pray that they begin to experience his fullness in new ways as they begin their new journey with Him.
But I have to go back. I will go back.
"I have not abandoned you as orphans; I am coming to you." -John 14:18
And until all have heard, I will not abandon the hopeless.
Thompson mentions that in the moment that Jesus bent down to write in the dirt, he suspected that it was to reach the woman in a different way- to look up to meet her eyes as her face was cast downward in shame. He used this example as a metaphor of Jesus getting down in her dirt to reach out to her in the midst of her struggle. He didn't reach down to her from a high place, but he bent down to catch her eyes- to show his compassion for her, to be on her level, with her.
Children are often intimidated by adults towering over them, just like small animals. This is why we kneel down- to catch their eyes. To become approachable, on their level.
This was my desire when looking at these people on the street- to get in their dirt, and to look them in the eyes. Just because I am from the Western world, with pale skin and money in my pocket, does not make me any better than these sweet and hardworking people. I didn't want to be distant from them. I didn't want to be unfamiliar with their ways.
But with looking into someone's eyes, there is a cost. Or better yet, an exchange. There is an exchange of emotion- and the deeper things. To look into their eyes would be for me to feel their suffering, their desperation, their sense of hopelessness. Or to look into their eyes would be to experience little exposure of insensitivity, and the simple joys of being a child and being happy no matter what happens.
This exchange has forever shaken me, and changed me.
Initially, I did not understand. The only question that came to my mind when I pulled up to our hotel after seeing these people on the streets was "Why?" I remember tears of bitterness and sadness welling in my eyes. I remember feeling the anger of injustice in this world piercing my heart. I remember asking God that day, "Why, Lord? I'm not any better than these people. Why do I have things, and why do they go without? I would rather go without if not everyone can have what they need."
The imbalance is so prevalent. The injustice is so authentic. That world became more real to me than anything I had experienced. It isn't fair for them.
Zeal for the lost people has overtaken me. There has to be justice for the people who live lives barely making it by, being hungry, working so hard and earning so little to support so many. We are so badly in need of restoration in the earth. We need God to intervene so badly for these people, and I'm willing to stand in the gap and reach out. I refuse to live a life oblivious of the pain that others are in, and pretending like we don't need a divine intervention. When people ask me "How was your trip to India?" I reply with "Overwhelming. Different, and good." Because that is simply what it was. I can't lie and tell everyone that it was a perfect world, because it wasn't. I saw things that I had never seen before, and heard stories that stole my innocent view of the world. The harsh pains of the reality of the truth hit me during this trip, every day. And while it hurt at times, it was necessary. Because without this exposure, I would live naive to the needs of the world.
43,774 accepted Jesus into their hearts during this trip to India. 293 were healed from sickness, pain or disease. I'm so grateful to have gained these new brothers and sisters in Christ, and I pray that they begin to experience his fullness in new ways as they begin their new journey with Him.
But I have to go back. I will go back.
"I have not abandoned you as orphans; I am coming to you." -John 14:18
And until all have heard, I will not abandon the hopeless.
