I’m not sure where this blog post will take me. I have thoughts that I want to share, but I want to do so in a way that communicates what I am feeling, without shedding a negative light on the people of India. So a disclaimer- these are my thoughts, my feelings, which are tainted with the sinfulness of being a human. The people of India have been nothing but kind and hospitable, and they’re beautiful people of a beautiful culture.
Now to the post.
As part of our ministry this month, we go into a different village each night, pray for people, and hold a service. The people in the villages are incredibly kind, always blessing us way more than we could ever deserve. But often times, it feels as though they think that our prayers are more powerful, better heard than God, because we are white. Sometimes it feels like we’re not even viewed as people, but rather objects coming to cure them. And it’s really hard, because to me it feels like they don’t realize that they have the exact same power in their prayers as we do in ours. They have the same Spirit, the same God, inside of them. He is the God of the nations, with not one above the other. And while it’s beautiful to come alongside them and encourage them, it’s not without the want to avoid furthering the belief in the white savior.
Yes I am from America. Yes I have more money, more things, more opportunities. But that does not make me god, and that does not make me able to solve their problems.
Everywhere we go, we are stared at. I’m talking double takes. I’m talking people waving until we’re out of sight. We are celebrities. We are seen and known. And sometimes it gets to be too much. I long for the anonymity of America. Of blending in. I long to pass on the street and not have men stare unabashedly. It’s been an interesting switch in perspective. I understand why women in these cultures are the way that they are now. I think that the women of our squad are experiencing a vastly different India than the men of our squad.
But I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. Sure I wish that I could walk to the store and buy a pop without an escort. Or just leave the compound without what feels like a babysitter. But I can see the brokenness in such a tangible way. I can see the need for Jesus, and I can feel the need for Jesus. But I can also see the changes that Jesus is making. When we walk into a village, and are welcomed as family. When the church needs to set up chairs outside, because it’s not big enough. When the staff of ICM abandon their families for a month so that they can take us shopping in town, arrange rides, feed us, meet our every need without complaining. When I see the respect and the awe that the people of Ongole have for ICM, because they care for the lowest of the low the way that Jesus does. They are working to end the cycle of poverty. They are loving on the children with disabilities that parents cast aside into ditches to die. They take them in, and give them homes. I see Jesus working in the fact that ICM has over 3,000 churches in just as many villages in the surrounding state. I see Jesus in the fact that even though ICM is a tiny organization in comparison to many, it is recognized for 3 of its programs as the most effective in India. They are making a difference. God is winning the hearts of Indians, claiming them as His rightful sons and daughters.
Yes, India can be a hard place to live. It can wear you down, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. There is brokenness apparent everywhere. But that doesn’t make it any more broken than America. The brokenness is different. It is tangible to me, because I am a foreigner. I have not yet learned to overlook it the way I have in America. While the people in India may look up to me as a savior, I look up to success and money. And neither of those are Jesus.
India has been hard. I have wrestled with things. I have felt angry. I have cried. I have felt defeated. But I have also grown. I am being refined, just as much as the people here are. I am not better than them, I am not worse than them. I am just as sinful of a person, redeemed by the saving grace of Jesus. And that, my friends, is the beautiful solution.
