Sometimes it feels like life on the Race is lived between free days. We’re supposed to have one every week- a totally free day, with no ministry, no preparations for ministry, no doing anything except resting, spending time as a team, maybe exploring the culture.
We’ve actually only had one scheduled free day, and it ended up being a crazy adventure through Bangalore as we followed two teenage girls around Bangalore, hunting for Indian clothing and trying to explain to them that we were on really tight budgets. The next week we weren’t going to have a day off, but there was a political disturbance and it wasn’t safe for us to leave the base, so it became a free day (I ended up sleeping a solid 14 hours- I think God was looking out for me). This week, too, we didn’t have a scheduled free day, but what started as a free morning turned into one of my favorite days so far.
All we were told is that we were going to go to the top of the mountain to pray for the city. Girls aren’t really allowed to wear anything but long pants, so we were all in jeans, verbalizing our jealousy at the guys in their shorts because the days in Vellore get hot- we checked the temperature at 8pm once and it was 79 degrees. See what I mean? HOT.
We piled into the van, stopped by a street vendor to pick up some chicken briyani (wrapped in newspaper!) and some fruit, and hit the road.
An hour and a half later, after circling the city several times, we were unceremoniously dropped off in a slum. As we adjusted our eyes to the blinding midday sun, Kalyan (one of the Vellore contacts) points to a mountain top far off in the distance and says, “that’s where we’re going.”
Sorry, what? This mountain was huge and far away! Surely he couldn’t be serious.
He was.
We walked through the slum nestled on the side of the mountain, spilling into the road, surrounded by kids (and adults) blatantly staring at our white faces and cows and chickens running helter skelter throughout. The trail got steeper, and then we were right smack dab in the middle of nature.
And when I say nature, I mean NATURE. There wasn’t a trail, we were treading our way through grass up to our waist, low hanging trees, prickers and spiky plants and thorns and loose rocks and holes that threatened to swallow our feet whole. The sun beat down on our backs and the mosquitos were having a blast (until we blasted them with Katherine’s 100 percent deet- a miracle potion straight from heaven).
After a half hour, we were hot, sweaty, tired and hungry, so we stopped on the side of the mountain, cleared some grass from under a tree, and unwrapped our briyani, eating it Indian style (without utensils), licking our rice covered fingers and chucking our bones out into the wild. Feeling somewhat refreshed, we set off again, as that elusive mountain top loomed closer and closer.
I thought we had reached the top a good 3 or 4 times before we actually did, each time looking over the breathtaking view of the city and thinking, “do we really have to keep going? This is quite nice right here.” But each time we pressed on, and after 3 hours of blazing ahead, we reached the top and walked among the ancient remains of what at one time must have been an impressive fort or watch tower.
The scene was straight out of Lord of the Rings- there were scraggly mountains on one side, perfect for lighting signals to beg Gondor to come to Rohan’s aid (dotted with goats and cows and even a monkey). On the other side, the city sprawled out as far as the eye could see, divided by a dry riverbed that at the peak of the monsoon season must be ferocious. The view was worth every step, every fall, every cut and scrape, every thorn jammed into soft skin, every drop of sweat and every moment I wanted to scream, “Let me off- I’ve had enough!”
Maybe this was God’s way of teaching me the lesson He’s been showing me in His word over the past few weeks, that lovely one no one ever wants to learn but we all need to be reminded of on a fairly frequent basis: sometimes God allows suffering into our lives, but the payoff is well worth it. Getting to the top of the mountain was HARD, I wanted to throw my hands up in surrender, I didn’t want to persevere. But when I got to the top, I was able to look back at every step taken and appreciate them for getting me up to the incredible fort at the top of the mountain.
Once we made it to the top, we prayed over the city. There’s something to be said for praying for a city you can SEE, standing over it and speaking words of life, praying for God to start a revival and raise up leaders who love Him and who will see the city redeemed. We worshipped, singing songs of praise to the Creator of heavens and earth, nestled in the middle of a mountain range that shouted glory to God in the highest.
As the sun began to set, we realized we had to get down, and quickly. The way was steep, the rocks were loose, there was no path and there were more holes to step into than we could reasonably avoid in the darkness. But God wasn’t going to leave us alone in the wilderness- not even ten minutes into our descent, we ran into a group of young cowherds leading their flock down the mountain, and we simply followed them home. The entire journey took thirty minutes, we beat the sun disappearing behind the horizon, and we made it safely- a little sweaty and certainly scratched, but safe and sound- back to the van.
I still don’t like nature (and I flipped out when the cow in front of me mooed at me), but I love the God who created this incredibly beautiful, painfully broken, boldly loud and wonderful land that is India.
