This place isn't what I expected.
I must confess, in my head I had a picture of Slumdog Millionaire.
I had visions of beggars and cripples everywhere, of piles of garbage, or grime and filth. I thought that the air would be super polluted and smell to high-heaven. I thought I wouldn't have more than simple rice and that I wouldn't have clean water or toilets or internet. It's not like that at all. Yet, I know that I'm currently living the exception. I know that this is not the India I've heard about.
Where I am and what this is like is not what the rest of the country is experiencing. Half of the time I honestly don't even feel like I'm in India. I feel like I'm in the States, which is unusual. I feel like this is more similar to home than Nepal, Romania, or Moldova have been. My team is in Bangalore, which is the most modern and fastest-growing city in India.
We went downtown and I've found that there's no real downtown. It feels smaller than even Chicago, but it's about three times the size, it’s simply spread out. Eight million people live in Bangalore. Downtown feels more like the India I had envisioned; there are tons and tons of people, but even then… it still doesn't live up to the expectation and picture I had in my head coming into this month.
The six of us are living in a flat that has three bedrooms and FOUR bathrooms. WHAT?! It's absolutely astounding. We have a big common space, and a back balcony and a rooftop that we can hang out on (and frequently do). Our toilets are western; we can even flush toilet paper. We have running water. Our host family gave us a gas stove so that we can make tea and coffee. They also cook for us everyday – all three meals. It's the best food I've ever eaten. We had French toast the other morning.
It's difficult to have so much, to be blessed so greatly. It's a hard pill to swallow, to be sure. Blessings have rained down time and time again since we arrived in this country, and the Lord continues to astound me with the little ways He loves my team. I feel unworthy of such extravagance in the face of the poverty that I know is lurking just around the corner.
How do I deal with the contrast? So many times I find myself asking, “Is this the World Race? Am I really in India right now?” Yes, to both. I am in India – the month is almost over. I am on the World Race, and have been for these past four months. It has become difficult to describe life on the Race because it is always different, and because that different has become second nature to me.
There is so much wrong with this Earth. Poverty should not exist. The idea that I’m in India – the land of one fifth of the world's population – floors me. How many of them don’t know where their next meal will come from? How many of them are slowly withering away from hunger? How many of them have no hope for change, for life, for more?
Yet here I sit, abundantly provided for. Why should I have so much? Father, how can I share what I have? There is a deep desire in me for justice; it has settled into the core of my being. I am not going to tolerate that there are families living in abject poverty while I sit in splendor. I can’t. It makes my stomach knot and my breathing constrict. It brings me to tears and I know that it breaks my Father’s heart.
I will never stop thanking Him for these blessings He’s poured out on me; God has given me gifts beyond my expectation or comprehension. I know that his meaning is twofold, however. The first – to know that my Father is a father who gives good gifts; my God is the God who loves to shower his kids with love. The second – to never forget his children who are in need, and to practice hospitality, generosity and kindness in all situations.
Such is love. Such is the purpose of my existence.
I pray that I can do these things.
