Sometimes
I get overwhelmed by the overload that my senses go through in a given amount
of time. Yesterday I think it all
happened in the span of about maybe five minutes. I’m not even sure that I can still grasp what
really went on, let alone put it into words with a lot of grace.
I
went to the leper colony somewhere in Delhi with the group that normally
goes. I hadn’t gone yet because I
decided that I wanted to dedicate a week at a time to a particular ministry. I have no idea. I think I just can’t keep my attention on
something for too long these days.
Perhaps it’s the heat. But on our
way we drove under a freeway and just like in the States, the nobody’s were
camped underneath. My mind raced back to
those times in college that I went to Houston, even back in Wichita, and gravitated
towards these people. Now I just stare
like any other ‘Joe’ with a look of vacancy.
I
almost feel helpless again.
The
leper colony ended up being a block away from there, something that I found
slightly hilarious considering the previous paragraph. It was different though, that’s for
sure. I didn’t really see anybody with
no arms, or legs. I saw what appeared to
be completely normal people living in a strip of small brick homes side by
side. It was about a block wide and two
houses wide, but using the term ‘house’ is probably too generous. I should say room. It was a line of rooms side by side.
It
was obvious that a lot of the people recognized the crew that had been
before. We walked in, stood in front of
their temple to one of their 306 million gods or something. We prayed.
It was weird with their ‘god’ around.
I remember turning around for maybe even just two seconds and staring at
the ‘idol’ that they had of their god there.
It was creepy and I wanted to spit on it.
Maybe
that’s wrong, but I did! I turned around
and walked away instead.
We
walked by a few people. I noticed one
guy that we talked to had his fingers sort of curled in, like if they might
have been beginning to erode away… and they were. I
didn’t think much of it. When I tried to
shake his hand after introducing myself, he didn’t really understand, so I just
ended up grabbing his lifeless hand of hopelessness. It wasn’t until after we talked to him for a
few minutes that he literally collapsed onto his knees and asked for us to pray
for him.
I
felt hopeful.
Next
thing I know, the girls are talking with some lady. She doesn’t speak English. They don’t speak Hindi. But she seemed pretty upset. Becky told me that her husband had a really
bad case of leprosy. He was fairly aged
and they had prayed for him last week, but something in the atmosphere told us
that something wasn’t right. Nana – what
I’ll call her – whisked us away to her house, not too quickly, but with a brisk
pace of hopelessness.
Yep
– hopelessness.
I
kind of wondered why I followed the whole crowd, but I think it’s because
curiosity sparked my interest. We got to
her house, er, room, and Nana pulled back the curtain. Caroline looked in and immediately embraced
Nana who was lost in a sea of tears.
Tammy glanced in, looked at Becky and I, and said,
“He’s
gone.”
And
it kind of hit me, in this span of less than five minutes, that I have no idea
what the heck I’m doing here. I have no
clue whatsoever. I just stood there and
prayed for peace while the girls just took turns holding Nana. Eventually she invited us in and we sat down
on the bed made of wooden planks.
Apparently her husband used to lay on that, on a stack of blankets,
while the leprosy ate away at his arms, back, and butt. Death plagued this man, cloaking him in
misery for far too long.
And
looking at Nana, she just looked hopeless.
I
sat on the bed in the dimly lit room with one tiny fan to cut through the
sweltering heat… perplexed, perplexed that I was there in that particular
moment for no other purpose than to pray or something. I still can’t figure it out actually. I just remember looking at Caroline, sitting
cross-legged on the floor with Nana, staring into her eyes. And then I saw it, I saw this one seemingly
powerless thing release the wholeness of the Spirit of God into the room, and
even onto myself.
It
was a single tear which tore down Caroline’s cheek.
Immediately
my eyes flooded with tears of my own, a sweet release for the emotions I can’t
seem to communicate these days. And for
the first time I think ALL year… my heart truly broke. It broke.
I understood what it meant to have hearts that break for the things that
break the heart of God.
And
don’t you dare tell me that His heart doesn’t break.
We
prayed for Nana, we sang a song for her (“Send Your Reign…”), and
through another friend in the colony, told her of the hope that we have because
of Jesus.
I
just can’t get this one thing out of my mind though: hopelessness. I know this sounds depressing and it seems
void of the hope I should speak of or something else like that, but it’s true. I just saw it carved on Nana’s face after
years and years of her living in it. And
then top it off with living years of hopelessness in a colony chalked full of
lepers in a nation that denies the reality of the Kingdom of God.
Gosh.
Live
is hard.
