Back in the room I laid on the hot tile floor, drinking hot water, listening to the noise of the service as I deliberated about whether I wanted to fight for or with India. Almost everything in me wanted to fight for India but I had serious doubts about whether that was literally possible when my physical body seemed to hate the place so dearly.
My thoughts were interrupted as a man began to shout ‘Thank you Jesus!’. Again and again I heard him yell his voice rising clearly through two whole floors of the church to where I lay. Immediately I felt the Holy Spirit and began to cry. I suddenly missed my team desperately and I became very aware that I was hot, sticky and… in the company of about six orphan boys.
‘Hello…hello sister.’
I sat up quickly and scrambled to cover myself with my sarong then waved and called back to them trying to place their faces from the brief meeting we’d had the day before. They beamed at me and raced around to talk to me through the window just above my head.
‘How are you sister?’
‘Not good. Sick.’
They looked confused and one of the boys asked the question again. This time I held my stomach, ‘Sick. Throwing up…’ I mimicked gagging.
‘Oh vomit…’
‘Yes.’
They all spoke at once in their language, talking amongst themselves and to me at the same time. They tried to form a question in english.
‘Sister can we…’
I was trying to understand the words that came after that but I was tired, confused and not really patient. I wanted to sleep, I didn’t want to practice having a conversation in english with them. P-something. They wanted to p-something… They reached their hands through the bars of the window towards me.
‘Can we pray for you?’
‘What?’
Did they really say that? It happened so quick and there were too many kids talking at once in a language I don’t understand to be 100% certain that that was actually what I heard. Before any of them could say it again the Pastor’s daughter’s came and asked if the boys were bothering me. I told her I couldn’t understand what they were saying, then I asked her.
‘What did they say?’
Everyone was talking at once. She again asked if they were bothering me and I hesitantly told her yes.
‘I’ll send them away and stand guard.’ She replied then chased the boys away and left to stand guard by the window. I lay down jostling with the confusion of the conversation I had just had. The uncertainity of what the boys were trying to say lay heavily on my mind.
Moments later the rest of my team came back to check on me before leaving for lunch and brought with them the news that they had prayed for a deaf man and he was healed. Jamie described the scene for me, saying that when it happened the man started screaming “Thank You Jesus!” as loud as he could. As she spoke all of the little dots began to fall into place.
I was fairly certain they had offered to pray for me and as I listened I realized that these little boys witnessed a miracle and then responded in faith. They came to comfort and pray for me in my sickness. The thought of their compassion and faith humbled me and made me feel deeply loved. I fought back tears as the Holy Spirit embraced me and thanked God for his faithfulness and grace.
In spite of how I feel physically or anything that anyone would give me to eat God is good and he sits supreme as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords over India. There is only one God and he loves the people of India very dearly. There are many things I struggle to understand and accept but I know for certain that I was not placed in India at the wrong time. My steps in this diverse culture are purposed and divinely inspired. With that in mind one thing seems very obvious to me; I must fight.
May 12, 2011
