Every night, my team and I travel to a different village going house to house praying and talking with the people who live there. Our hosts bring us to the sick, the unbelievers, the paralyzed and the blind. We pray and invite them to the pastor of that village’s home for a message and worship. Most of the village will come and listen to what we have to say, some maybe just because we are the first white people they have ever seen and they want to look at us. We lead the service and then we enter into the pastor’s home for a meal that the pastor’s wife has prepared. We eat while the family serves us, refilling plates and drinks, smiling and excitedly wanting to meet all of our needs. They watch in amusement as we eat spicy Indian food cross-legged on the floor with only our right hand.
It was at one of these homes that a precious moment with a pastor’s wife touched my heart. She ushered us into her house, laying out mats for us to sit on and rushing to dish up the food she prepared. Her beautiful Sari had a layer of dirt from where she had been kneeling on the ground to cook us the chapati (naan). She smiled and watched as we ate, listening to our conversations with one another. We finished our meal and our translator Monibob brought the ladies of our team into the kitchen to have a dance party. We danced around being goofy as the pastor’s wife smiled and laughed. Soon it was time to leave and we began to say our goodbyes to the family. The pastor’s wife ran to us, embraced us with a huge hug, sobbing and holding us tight. Monibob translated that she was so filled with joy and could not stop from crying these happy tears. She held my hand as we walked outside and helped me into our car.
It has been hard for me this month to accept the special treatment of these people who I desperately desire to serve. The ladies of our village cook and serve us every meal and clean up afterward. They gather our laundry and hand wash every piece. The furniture is taken out of their homes so we can sit in chairs and not on the floor like everyone else. We are driven everywhere, whether to purchase Sari’s, toilet paper or shampoo, find internet, or to see a waterfall. Everyone we have come in contact with here has an attitude of honor and service towards us. They desire to give blessing after blessing after blessing and I am in awe of the love I feel from these people. We have attempted to reciprocate the service by helping the women in our village with chores or by simply getting our own water for the showers. We are always stopped and are told it is offensive to them if we help in any way, as we are the guests.
It was not until the night with that precious pastor’s wife that I began to understand the full beauty of the service given by these people. As the pastor’s wife cried from the joy she felt from serving us, I saw the way I desire to serve Christ by loving others. The people in our village know and understand that by serving us, they are really serving the One who sent us. Instead of seeing the women spending an hour washing my clothes, or serving me dinner and feeling bad for them, I am able to see their beautiful service towards the Lord. These wonderful people have captured my heart, but more than that, they have revealed Jesus’ heart to me through their love towards people. I will leave India a changed person, a person who desires to serve others in the way that God commands and leads them to a greater understanding of the love of Christ.
“Be devoted to one another in brotherly love, giving preference to one another in honor.”
Romans 12:10
Abby-growing and changing in India
