Around 20 people can fit comfortably (There was usually 30-35 people inside). There is one light bulb that sometimes works, sometimes doesn’t. The walls are made of tin and cardboard; the ceiling is ripped canvas bags and tarp. There is a dirt floor and the mats people sit on are almost as dirty. The young man playing guitar didn’t know how to play a single note as he strummed the same thing for every song, but he was worshipping his heart out. At one point wild pigs were up against the side of a wall, scrounging for food amidst their somewhat-loud grunts and squeals. Needless to say, the tin walls don’t block out much sound. The service starts whenever the pastor arrives. It could be 5 p.m. It could be 8 p.m. This is what worship looks like in the middle of a slum in Mumbai, India.
This was one of the most beautiful sanctuaries I have ever been in. Every person I met has a passionate fire for the Lord and a great desire to see His Kingdom come in their lives, in their community and in the world. Where worship happens means so little; it’s the hearts pouring out to the Lord that define the beauty of the Church. I saw children who are just beginning to learn about our Savior and His vast, immeasurable Love. I saw women and men who know life is about giving their all to the King. I saw people who are consumed by their joy in Christ instead of the economic depravity they live in every day. Verbally we may not speak the same language, but our hearts beat for the same purpose: to love the One Who first loved us and to spread His Truth to the world. It was one of the most beautiful sanctuaries I have ever been in.
