India, you were something else.
Something I thought I had fully wrapped my mind around prior to our meeting, thinking I had you figured out. Thinking I knew all your secrets-the tricks to avoiding all social awkwardness with you. Friends back home had told me you were overwhelming, sure. But overwhelming for me…impossible!
I was mistaken. I was humbled.
As I looked out the plane window at your smog-laden sky, I knew nothing about you would be clear. All the assumptions I had concocted drifted upwards until I couldn’t even see them anymore.
Your welcome was not a gentle, warm hug. It was a cold customs counter with cold faces. It was a “Why are you here?” that I couldn’t truthfully answer. It was like everything about you smacked me in the face all at once.
I spent the following month simultaneously challenged and deeply in love. Perhaps one of the greatest juxtapositions.
Most of your people worship a plethora of gods I know nothing about. But you know what? I saw my God in each one of their faces. My God is moving in your land, India.
I saw Him in the outstretched hands and genuine smiles of the children I got to serve every day. He was in the laughter, music and conversation that filled our narrow neighborhood streets. His heart rejoiced in direct eye contact with mothers who hide their faces in a society that doesn’t want to see them. He cried with us as we washed the beautifully worn feet of ayahs, nurses and teachers. He’s there, India. My God. The One who is Love.
That same God did a work in me during my time with you. He dissected my heart right in front of you, and at first I wanted to hide it. “Don’t expose me!” I cried. But there were areas of my heart that had been longing for Light. We pushed into deep saturation and humility, and He never left my side. I needed Him when I was with you. I still need Him even though we’re now apart.
India, you’re the definition of a paradox.
Your traffic is the most insane thing I’ve ever been entangled in! Why do your people honk their horns every time they take a breath? How do that many vehicles fit on one street? It’s aggressive, exhilarating, overwhelming.
Yet–it’s also submissive. A gentle, kind, ever-flowing current. Your people yield to their neighbors who pull out right in front of them. Anger and cursing are absent, quite unlike where I come from. It’s everyone working together to get to where they need to go. It’s honestly lovely.
And your men. They carry stern expressions (and mustaches), yet their hearts swell with great love, honor and commitment. They hold hands on the street and have arms around shoulders and guard our gates. Gentleness embraced in masculinity. A rare quality I so admire. Your mothers raised them well.
Your smog puts a dark, hazy film over a land that is filled with so much vibrancy! The wafting aroma of stewing chai, the brilliant chalk designs on driveways, the spectacular patterns of kurtas and saris that flow with the breeze-that’s where your Life is held, India. The things you can’t see from an airplane window.
In order to see your Truth, you have to get down low. You have to let humility bring you back down to the ground.
So India, thank you. Your Namaste’s made it so much harder to say goodbye. I’ll admit to being ready to leave while also knowing I was going to miss what I was leaving. Like I said, a great paradox.
I have gotten to know many countries in my comparatively short life, and you were perhaps the hardest I’ve met. But you were also the most brilliant.
You have forever changed my heart and challenged my mind.
My Jesus loves you,
K
