All we knew was that morning we would be visiting a home for the elderly somewhere in our city in India. We have a different ministry each morning because our contact wants us to experience what God is doing here, so we didn’t know this until that morning. As I piled into the big van I got some butterflies in my stomach. Would I be able to make a difference there in one morning? What was I about to see? I never had experienced serving in a nursing home, but had grown up hearing horror stories from family members who worked at ones back in the States. I sat staring out the window fervently praying that the Lord would give me His strength to get through whatever I was about to walk into.
India is a very different place from the States and the care often looks very different. I was pleasantly surprised by this facility because it was much cleaner than I had expected and the staff were Christians who truly seemed to care for the patients and told us of their prayers for each person. We walked through the rooms and stood by each bedside to hear the director explain each person’s story of how they came to be there and the complications they were experiencing. Our little group would sing the patient a song and then pray for them and then shuffle off to the next bed.
Anybody can be touched deeply doing something like this; hearing tragic story after story of lives once lived and then looking into the eyes of people stripped of their pride and lives- but one man truly touched me deeper than I imagined.
I can’t even remember his name because it was a long, traditional Indian name I could not begin to pronounce. He was the last bed we visited in the men’s wing and his story was simple: he was old and could no longer care for himself and was not wanted by his family anymore. He was 94 years old and looked so tiny propped up on pillows and blankets in the metal-railed hospital bed. His legs no longer had any muscle mass on them and they lay in a cooked heap underneath the blankets. He began to feebly struggle to free his arms from the sheets. Once they were free, he gave us a big, toothless grin with a gaping mouth and sunken cheeks. He could not speak, but only made soft croaking noises as we watched him. He caught my eye and I could only think of who this man used to be and how he must feel trapped inside this bed and his mind for years and years, unwanted.
And then it happened.
While we were singing of God’s love to this man, he worked hard to clasp clumsy hands in front of his frail body and made a rocking motion to gesture to each person in front of his bed making eye contact with each of us. I heard God say “he is praying for you” as his wrinkled, sunken eyes met mine. I did not see the hopelessness that I expected, but instead they were filled with life and joy! Seconds later as we finished the song another woman we were doing ministry with that day vocalized what I was still too in shock to say: she thanked him for praying for us.
The little man beamed and began to gesture even more vigorously.
He met my eyes for a length of time after that as if he understood what God was doing inside of me- and perhaps he did. Here I was, the ‘white missionary’ who is thanked for leaving my home, family, my job, and my culture for just a year to come show Jesus’ love to others, but I could never love as well as this physically broken 94 year old man. He had lost so much- his body, his dignity as others had to care for him like a baby, his means of communication, his home, his family, and anything to live for. Even through all of this and all of his want, he chose to use the short time he had for visitors to pray for us.
The answer to living a beautiful life is not that of seeking happiness, but rather seeking joy. Joy, unlike happiness, does not depend on circumstance but is solely from the Lord. Joy, in the world’s eyes, makes no sense but is a supernatural gift from God that allows His children to overcome a broken world. This little old Indian man embodied joy in all circumstances better than anyone I have ever met. It convicted me to be more like Christ: sometimes on the race you see things that are really difficult or may have to do things that are hard for you. From working with orphans infected with AIDS to teaching a VBS to an unruly group of village children who don’t speak your language. I may not be able to handle or do everything perfectly, but even in all of my mistakes I can still shine God’s Light and give hope by having joy in all I do.
Sometimes you walk in afraid of the catheter bags and wrinkles, but leave a better missionary because of the prayers of the tiniest, oldest India man you have ever met.
