India. A country of contrasts. One minute you smell the stench of sewage flowing through the streets. The next minute you smell the aroma of spices wafting in the air. You look around and see the dull color of mud-huts and trash, but notice the radiant colors in the garb of the Indian people.
There is so much to tell. I could tell you about the day that we looked at the newspaper and found pictures of ourselves on the front page, headline reading “White People Are Here”. Or I could tell you about the day where we literally caused a traffic jam in the streets because of the hundreds of people following after us and staring at us. I could tell you about the day we passed through a military blockade and our driver was beaten, until he paid a bribe to let us pass.
The story that I really want to tell, is about the healing and redemption happening in the villages. We drive about an hour to an outlying village in the deep countryside of India. We walk hut to hut and pray over people. Then, we gather them into one place, and preach two sermons, give a testimony, and worship. This happens every day, but there is one day that sticks out.
I meet a boy, perhaps 10 years old, named Karthik. We laugh as we discover that our names actually sound similar. Even through the language barrier and the lack of communication in our words, we bonded. We were both drawn to one another. He followed me everywhere that day. During the messages, he ran off. I was a little sad to see him go, and was a little unsure why he left so suddenly. A few minutes later, he reappears helping a man walk our way. Immediately, the Holy Spirit pieced everything together for me. The Lord had drawn Karthik to me for a reason, for this specific moment, knowing that when Karthik would return, I would pay special attention to him, and notice the man that he helped. I don’t remember a time where I was so moved by the Spirit to go and pray for someone. I left my seat and began walking towards the man, Karthik appearing next to my side, holding my hand and leading me to the man. He is blind. I find out from our translator that they believe he has a tumor in his brain. He has been unable to open his eyelids for five years. I let the man know that his faith in the Lord, and nothing to do with me, is what will heal him. He agrees, and I pray. I put my hand over his eyes and ask for healing. It was a simple prayer. Nothing special.
He opened his eyes.
People in the village serve us snacks and chai, and we make our way back to our own “village”. They call it a village, but it houses 3 million people.
It’s now almost midnight, and I am blown away by God’s mercy, divine appointments, and power.
I have a unique opportunity this month in India. The whole purpose of coming on the World Race was to introduce the world to God’s abundant love. In previous countries, our ministry a lot of the time ends up being a support role. A role where we empower pastors and missionaries to share the Gospel. Now, in my seventh month, I am the pastor and missionary. My ministry everyday is to travel to these villages in India and tell them about Christ, and in some instances, show them the redeeming and healing power of Christ. It’s a scary privilege, to have entire villages be so dependent upon my introduction of Christ to them; the only time they may ever hear it. Hundreds of lives are being changed, and it’s only day 8.
