I’ve been struggling to write this blog. I tend to put off writing anything until I have the right words to say or the right story.
So here I am now, completely unprepared and unaware of where this blog will actually end. Or begin, for that matter.
So in the words of Snoop Dogg… “Greetings loved ones, let’s take a journey.”
Reflecting on this past week is not easy. It was full of love and despair, joy and frustration- I don’t think I will ever have the words to do this week justice.
On Monday my team set out for our next village visit. At this point in the Race we’ve stopped asking nagging questions like “Where are we going?” and “What are we doing?” We hopped in what the team has dubbed a “truck truck” (not a tub tsk yet somehow not a car either) and set off for Somewhere, India.
After a lot of bumps, not enough leg room (or butt room, for that matter), and swimming in a sea of our own sweat, something hit us. We were no longer hot, the air wasn’t heavy, and our hearts felt free. That’s right, we we smelt the ocean. If you know me, you know this was a God moment for me. For the first time in India, I felt comfortable. Heck, I felt at home. After driving for 2 hours the car stopped and we immediately asked our ministry host where the ocean was. Guess what. guess what, guess what? The Bay of Bengal was a short 4 kilometers away, and on Tuesday we would take the kids to go swimming. Praise Jesus.
And though those few hours on the beach were probably the happiest I have felt in India, I want to talk about something else. I want to talk about the Real India.
In an effort to not totally butcher Indian history, I’ll be brief. You see, India operates on a caste system- aka your social class is determined by birth. There are 5 different castes: Bhramin (the Priests and academics), Kshatryia (warriors), Vaisya (workers), Sudra (servants), and the Untouchables (the outcasts, the street sweepers).
Yes, you read that right. India calls one of the castes “the Untouchables.” Yes, Indian culture literally tells these people they cannot be reached, that they aren’t worth being reached.
So naturally, this is where the Racers go.
This little village stole my heart in just 3 nights. 3 nights with sweat dripping (read: pouring) down my back, squatty potties, and sand in my hair. 3 nights with 25 kids in a 300 person village. 3 nights with the most generous people I have ever met. 3 nights with God showing up.
Yes, these people live in the smallest huts I’ve ever seen. Yes, these people struggle to bring food home for their families. Yes, these people are sick.
But no, this community is not untouchable. The children give hugs bigger than anyone. The parents give everything they have to you when you go into their house. Seriously, I have had more soda in the past 3 days than I have in 15 years. Saying no is not an option- to do so is not only offensive, but heartbreaking to your host. The community feels the pain you feel. When I told the pastor’s 17 year old daughter I felt sick, her demeanor literally changed. If that’s not empathy, I don’t know what is.
Proverbs 13:7 says, “One man pretends to be rich but has nothing; another pretends to be poor but has great wealth.”
In America, I would always read this verse thinking that I was the “poor” in this Proverb. And yes, I hate admitting that. But let me explain. I would never deny my privilege. I grew up in a loving family, in a safe environment, with not only a roof over my head, but a 2 story house. I grew up with the some of the best education and the best friends. I would never deny my privilege. But, let’s face it. Who wants to admit that they are the stuck-up rich person in the Bible? So, I always took myself to be the “poor.” In other words, my heart had great wealth. Pursue kindness, not money.
India taught me that I am the “rich,” not the “poor” that the Bible speaks about. I feel disgusting knowing that my meal budget is $1 per meal and could eat everyday until I vomit. Like I said, you don’t deny food. So I am fed until I literally cannot eat anymore. Hallelujah I like India food.
I can’t classify the villagers of India in the same category as me. I truly believe they have more. They have a faith stronger than anyone I know. They trust that even in the brokenness, God will show up. I want a faith like that. I don’t want to be rich but have nothing. Give me a faith like an Indian Untouchable, and I will have great wealth.
Before India, my heart was untouchable. How beautiful is it to say the Untouchables touched me?
The truth is, I won’t see these people again until we meet at the Throne. And thinking about that makes my heart drop to my stomach. I cried today hugging the kids goodbye. But I am also thankful. After all, not everyone gets to say they’ve met the most generous, kind-hearted, and compassionate people this world has to offer. But I do. And one day I will hug them again and thank them for changing my life. For removing me from the Untouchable caste.
