There are just too many things to write about India.
I don’t know where to start. This is something that I wrote one night after ministry when my pen just couldn’t keep up with my head and heart, so I had to resort to typing. This is from a milestone night in my travels. The one time I’ve been heartbroken on the race. No pictures, no zingy story, just welcome to my thought vomit:
Lord. So many emotions right now. So many feelings. Ugh, FEELINGS. My least favorite word. I don’t even know where to start. Well I guess I can start with where I am right now. It’s 12:21 am and I’m freezing on our rooftop in Hyderabad, India. My nose is completely stopped up, my eyes are puffy, my head is throbbing. The moon is the brightest I’ve seen in my life. Not biggest, but brightest.
Tonight we were supposed to do ministry. We never really know what that means in India. I thought we were like going to go pass out food and clothes and blankets in the slums because that’s what was on the schedule. Nope. In classic India fashion, we left 85 minutes late and totally didn’t do what we set out to do. Our team was divided in two, which we don’t usually do. Derek, Georgia and I went into on e of the slums that we had gone into last week. We started out in Kohila’s house where she served us maggi noodles and the best stinking ginger chai ever brewed. Priscilla, though impoverished, gave Georgia and I bangles and a beautiful necklace to remember her by. It was sweet. We prayed over the house casually and then kinda thought we were done with ministry as we joked about how we got the easy way out. WRONG. So freaking wrong.
We went across the alley to another lady’s house. She served us mango juice. A woman came in a beautiful red and yellow sari who wanted prayer to heal her kidney stones. Little did she know. Ohhh, little did she know what she was getting herself into. Our team had a talk that morning about making sure each person we prayed for knew that trusting Jesus alone was an essential part of healing. It may sound weird to Westerners but healing is just kinda how God shows up in Asia, especially for nonbelievers, so we get asked to pray for it a lot and have seen some glory-saturated results.
We asked if she was a Christian. She’s Hindu. God healed her husband of jaundice 3 years ago and so she believes in Jesus, but wasn’t willing to devote herself to Christ alone unless He healed her. After explaining through Jeevan, our translator, that it’s not how our God works, she got impatient. We laid out the gospel for her, explained how Jesus wants all aspects of her life not just her health – and explained our heart behind it. She cared maybe 4%. We prayed for her then she got the heck out. All right. No biggie. We went down swingin’ and proclaimin’.
We went to go pray for brother David and his ever-elusive future wife. At this point we were kinda frustrated. Frustrated that these people keep slipping back into what’s comfortable. That these second-best handholds are more precious than Christ. That He’s not worth it. That He’s a magician. That He answers prayers in one way. That He can give us what we want without us giving ourselves to Him. The language barrier got thick. Our patience got short. We were about to pray for the same thing for the 6th time in that little room, but I almost forgot my chuni, the Indian head covering women wear when they pray or teach. I said I almost missed a good opporchunity. We all laughed so hard. Then got reprimanded for laughing. Then prayed. But still kinda laughed. Then we really weren’t wanting to go to more houses.
The next house welcomed us in with piping hot ginger chai and biscuits. We prayed for an unbelieving husband. Prayed for babies’ fevers. Prayed for growth for the family. They were wearing dots on their foreheads. Then took ’em off and said they would throw out their idols on Monday. I don’t know why Monday. But, Monday nonetheless.
As I said a half-assed prayer for the family, one of the girls’ sweet tears fell on my hand. I was shocked. All of my impatience immediately left. It hit me how selfish I was being. How unloving I was in my heart at what should’ve been a beautiful moment. I was encouraged by the simple act of tears falling on my hand. That despite how I feel and despite my agenda, my God is working in hearts. He’s answering these prayers even when I’m nearly reciting them. What a selfish Darc. What a good God.
More houses? Bring it on. We went to a man’s house. Derek and Zack prayed for him at church last week. Before we got there he took off his dot. His family was in deep. They believed in everything that comes with Hinduism, Islam and Jesus. And Jesus doesn’t work. This family had a small room with pictures of idols on each wall. Weird things were hung above the doorways as sacrifices. Their 3 boys looked so sweet. The family wanted to be doing what was right, so they just believed everything. While we were praying for this man’s healing, tears came to my eyes. I’m not a crier, but I was so moved by this family. I saw pure hearts. I saw a glimpse of what God sees when He looks at them. A few little tears, a pastry, banana and orange later, we were headed out of their house. I felt heavy for their family. I asked Jeeves if we could go home. He said we had one more house. Ok. Fine. But seriously, I’m emotionally spent I’m just going through the motions. Hope that’s ok.
We got to the last house. The dude that we prayed for the first night on Jeevan’s roof lived there. His dad had a broken foot. Want healing? Same story. Jesus and. Jesus and witchcraft. Jesus and idols. Jesus and vishnu. Jesus and. They didn’t know that Jesus wanted everything. They didn’t know that you cannot serve two masters much less the millions that Hinduism boasts. They were surprised when we told them the truth.
It was simple. They didn’t know. Nobody had told them. I couldn’t take it anymore. The Lord brought me flat on my face and knees as Derek prayed for this family. Then boom. Tears. Big, weepy, heaving tears. I’m in the middle of this Hindu-worshiping living room, lying face flat on the floor, balling. I’ve only cried like this one other time in my adult life (holla Summer 2011) and I’m sure everyone felt really comfortable with the white girl in shambles on the floor. I couldn’t stop and I can’t fully explain why it hit me so hard, but I want to try.
The words that kept going through my head were Jesus, win. This was warfare. The word completely was laid on my heart this morning, and it came full circle tonight I just wanted their hearts to completely belong to Jesus. He deserves more than a fraction. My heart is so deceitful. I deem other things worthy. I worship other things. I genuinely think other things will fulfill me. I spend money and heart space on things that glorify me. WHY. It’s disgusting. In this moment on the floor I could not get low enough. The weight of glory was heavy on me. I couldn’t exalt Him high enough and the mere thought of me getting any glory disgusted me.
Between heaving breaths, I asked God to take all of this house. Take each heart captive. Let their idols fail them hard. I wanted this newly-anointed man we prayed for to actually understand all Jesus offers him. I just don’t think anyone understood. How can I tell of all His goodness? I don’t freaking know. ‘Cause I don’t even understand it all. The more I know about Jesus, the less it makes sense… but the more I trust Him. All I know is that I wanted to run down the street or get a megaphone or make a platform and tell the clear and complete Gospel. Hyderabad needs to know. They are ready to receive that’s the crazy/beautiful part. Crazy because their beliefs are jacked up, but beautiful because they’re conscious of their souls and love this Jesus guy. They just love other things, too.
Splotchy and snotty, I walked back to CWC. I am just broken. Unexpectedly. This is what I love, God. Your eyes. Your heart. I don’t care if it’s painful that’s what I was given tonight and it’s beautiful. Georgia and I are up here on the roof. The moon is the brightest I’ve ever seen it. Sunglasses-worthy. For real. The moon is beautiful, but the clouds are on the move. Some are thicker than others. Some let a little light shine in, others don’t let a peep through. Some of the darkest clouds illuminate around the edges when the moon is behind it. No matter what, the moon is the moon is the moon. It shines bright no matter what. The clouds are unpredictable, but it really didn’t matter. So many life metaphors going on in the sky right now that the boys would make fun of me for. Regardless, I want a cloudless sky. I don’t want to rob the moon of any light.
If I’ve learned anything from tonight it’s this: He wants it all.
I want to clear the way for Him at all costs.
