The nature of serving God is messy. When we say “Yes, I want to give my life to building your kingdom,” we volunteer ourselves to walk into the messiest parts of humanity.
On this journey more than any other, this has taken me right into other people’s’ pain. Pain sometimes so deep, so heavy that it feels like my heart may drop out right there on the dirt floor of their one-room house. We step over the safety lines and enter the vulnerable situations that more often than not are going to reject a one-size-fits-all solution.
I was faced with this recently while on a home visit here in India. One of our responsibilities has been to collect information and write the stories of the women, girls, and families our host, Rescue Pink, serves. These women and girls come from various spiritual and social backgrounds. Our intent is to show them the love of Christ through simply listening to their lives. No judgement, no bias. Just love and openness. Through this, we have empowered them to continue journeying toward freedom and confidence. I have loved hearing about the redemption, dreams, and strength captured in each story.
Tuesday was our first day of house visits. We stopped by to see Sarah*, a smiley 8-year old who always arrives at the after school program in what I’d call a princess gown. Upon meeting her, I noticed she was one of the most joy-filled kids in the crowd.
It’s important you know that the girls who attend the after school program are not here by coincidence. They all come from vulnerable, struggling households. Rescue Pink offers a safe place for them to simply be kids, receive English tutoring, and eat a nutritious snack every day. These are luxuries they wouldn’t necessarily have otherwise. We are teaching them their value and working to prevent them from the injustice many girls in India face. If you want to know more about what these girls are standing against, check out my recent blog here.
We entered the one-room shack Sarah calls home and laid some fabric on the dirt floor. Eight of us packed in and sat cross-cross on the fabric as we waited for her grandmother to join. I looked around at all of their belongings lining the walls. I cringed at the mouse that scurried across the perimeter of the room. My heart sank at this tiny glimpse into her reality.
Sarah’s father packed up and left when he learned his wife developed breast cancer three years back. Rendering Sarah’s mother useless due to her illness, he remarried and abandoned his barely 5-year-old daughter along with her older sister. When Sarah’s mother passed away from the cancer, her grandmother was left to raise them alone.
As more details of their story emerged, my heart planted itself deeper in the pit of my stomach. Thoughts ran through my head at rapid speed. This little girl did nothing to deserve this kind of rejection. I want better for her. Why, God?
I was faced with my own powerlessness in fixing the situation. I can’t actually change this for her, I realized.
When Sarah’s grandmother arrived, I immediately noticed her tired eyes and slender frame. She was draped in a vibrant red sari, which is normal wear for the women around here. She seemed slightly reserved, but her gratitude for our visit pushed through her modest smile.
We learned that she works as a cleaning maid at a local hotel, bringing in less than 50 dollars a month as the sole income for the family. The dark reality was dimmed furthermore when she shared that her son, who lives there as well, demands she give him most of her paycheck to feed his addictions. When she refuses, he beats her into compliance. When Sarah tries to stop the violence, she receives the same treatment. As she told us these things, the grandmother pulled her bottom lip to reveal bruises that came as a result of the most recent debacle. Yet again, my heart sank deeper.
Her eyes were telling a story of desperation. She has nowhere to turn. She has no protection. The government doesn’t have the type of readily available social programs we have in the States. She lost all support from her family when she left the Hindu faith. She’s old and frail, and has little ability to physically defend herself. I didn’t know what to say to make it better. I felt like my powerlessness was now being shoved in my face.
My only source of hope over the seemingly grim situation was hung high on the wall. My eyes wandered to the framed picture of a cross, embellished with the words “I trust in You.”
Rachael asked if she believes those words when her son is ruthlessly beating her. Her expression lightened when she replied with a confident “yes.”
She told us how Jesus is her only hope. She knows he is with her through it all.
This encouraged me, but it would be a lie to say I’m satisfied with the situation now that I’ve seen her hope. Her reality is still brutal. She still lives with expectation for the next outburst. She’s still trapped in the turmoil of another person’s sin.
My heart broke over this. Its pieces aren’t put back together yet, either. I’m confused about why God would allow this to happen. I don’t have an answer, and maybe I never will. What I do have is comfort in knowing that he is STILL good. He is STILL trustworthy. He told us we would face tribulation in this world, and although it doesn’t always make sense, he can use our darkest days to bring us near to him. That’s exactly what Sarah’s grandmother is doing – drawing near to God.
His heart is breaking for his daughter right now. I know this because I know his nature. He doesn’t wish for this woman to lose hope.
This experience reminded me why humanity’s messiness is something we inherently face when we say “yes” to serving him. He enters our messiness just the same. He gets down in our dirt and promises redemption and freedom.
He is down and dirty in the messiness of that family. He sits there on that dirt floor and hears her cries just as I did last Tuesday. He is fighting on their behalf. He is using people like me and my teammates to love her and remind her that she is seen.
If being used by the Creator of the Universe means getting into some messes, I’ll do it with joy. I’ll do it because it’s what he does for us.
*Names changed for privacy
