Let me introduce you to my friend Kumar. Actually, I can’t really, because I hardly know him. But I carried a gilded tray of wedding favors into his engagement party along with twenty traditionally dressed Indian (and five white) women. I don’t know Kumar, but that day I was his family. I carefully carried my tray along with the procession and handed it to a woman at the entrance of a small house. Behind her in a smoky room sat a shirtless man with ash on his arms and forehead, mumbling off incantations and prayers. He was the priest to perform the engagement.
This is what I do know about Kumar. He is a Hindu and his family abandoned him. For reasons that are unknown to myself, he was unsupported on one of the most important days of his life by the people whose support mattered most. But Kumar has a friend at work named Nicholas Raj. Nicholas Raj is one of the kindest, most genuine men of God I have ever met, and because of this, he told Kumar that he would be his family that day.
Not only did Nicholas and his wife go to support Kumar. No. The Raj family rented two twelve-passenger vans, drove the three-hour journey, dressed in their best saris and Punjabis, and made elaborate wedding favors to offer as gifts. Mama Raj stood in for his mother at the ceremony, and Nicholas made sure everything ran perfectly. And of course because these people are kindness and inclusion in every way, the six white girls got to come along for the ride.
Although this is not the point of my blog, I have to make a note that Indian engagement parties are bomb. A groom offers up a home to his family – in this case my family – and they stay there all day. Both the bride and groom spend the morning and afternoon with their separate families and then everyone goes to the grand ceremony at night. In between events we hung out, did each other’s hair, and helped each other get ready. (And my team enjoyed wifi for the first time in ages.) I left the church in Sungai Petani at 9 that morning and got back at 4am. Crazy.
So anyway, my brother Kumar is a Hindu. He doesn’t know who Jesus is. But because of Nicholas Raj and my crazy Indian family, he knows what Jesus’ love looks like. On some level, he knows what adoption into the family of God feels like. He may not be a Christian, but Kumar, a Hindu, has experienced what true Christianity is. That day, true Christianity was a family sitting supportively through a service where a god was prayed to that we don’t believe in. That day, true Christianity was just being there when no one else was. That day, true Christianity was selfless love. And that day will never be forgotten by Kumar or his wife’s family.
This is what going the extra mile looks like. This is the kind of dedication we are to show to unbelievers. Notice I said the kind of dedication to the unbeliever. Not just to the unbeliever’s salvation. Kumar didn’t need us to preach at him. Our commitment to him that day was worth more than words could ever say. Even my team of white girls got invited back to his wedding in August. How I wish I could be there.
So to my family in America – be dedicated to the person. Set aside religion, family, and circumstance. Go the extra mile. Adopt people into your family. Love unconditionally.
Just a life update, sometimes I wonder who I am anymore. Just an example, my Thursday night this past week consisted of me leading worship at the beginning of service, playing the electric guitar during offering, and giving the sermon. These are three things that should terrify me. But for some reason, I was hardly nervous. I truly don’t know when or how this became my norm, but praise the Lord.
