India.
Just last week I found myself riding in an old, beat up, 8 passenger van (lovingly named the “Ministry Machine” because of its shocking resemblance to Scooby Doo’s Mystery Machine), squished inside with 11 adults, driving down a dusty, village backroad in India.
The wind was hot as it brushed my face through the open windows. The heat of the day had come and gone and now gave way to an incredible Indian sunset. The huge orange sphere lay in a soft haze of pinks and purples on the palm tree-lined horizon. My soul let out a deep sigh.
My heart turned to thankfulness as I thought back on how my team and I had been living our lives these past few weeks out here in the dusty, forgotten places of India.
Pitching our tents on the concrete roof, sleeping under a canopy of stars that I’ve never seen before. Waking up with the sunrise, roosters, and the curious eyes and laughter of the 11 orphan boys who we shared a home with this month. Throwing the gray tin bucket down the well and pulling it up with the worn out colorful rope multiple times a day for dishwashing, hand washing, laundry, and shower water.
Eating rice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner since the day we arrived. Learning and becoming a champion at eating with my right hand since eating utensils don’t even exist out here and the left hand is considered “unclean” and never used for eating. Eating curry so spicy that I thought I would never be able to feel my lips ever again, to asking for second and third helpings with only slight mouth numbness and tingling now.
Playing card games on the floor with the boys who called this place home. Learning how to sit crisscross on the concrete floor comfortably for hours at a time. Trying not to be a victim of fruit theft by monkeys, seriously though, they’re menaces.
Stalling our games in the evenings with the boys on the dirt road in front of our house just long enough to let the neighborhood shepherd and his herd of sheep and water buffalo pass by.
The intense heat burning hot through my sandals on the van floor brought my thoughts back to the present. Even though it felt like my feet might spontaneously combust at any moment, my mind eased slightly as I remembered our host’s almost daily routine of topping of the engine (which actually sits directly under the floorboard) with coolant before our evening journeys. So my feet may be scalded but at least we won’t break down or overheat on our way to ministry. Silver lining folks.
It was hard to believe, impossible almost, that just a few weeks prior, I had been trekking through the Himalayas, contemplating the horror of freezing to death, to now sweating my life away in India. It was almost harder still to remember the places that God brought me to and the things He revealed about Himself to me in such breathtaking ways in Nepal, to now, feeling so distant from Him here in India.
He had asked a lot of me in Nepal. He had wrecked me. He asked me to be vulnerable in gut wrenching ways, all at the same time. I fought and wrestled and cried and was so anxious I thought my eyeballs might explode, but ultimately, I knew it was something He was asking me to do, so I said yes.
But now, here I am in India, with a vulnerability hangover the size of the mountain I just climbed in Nepal.
I couldn’t feel Him. I was praying and seeking Him out, but it felt as if I was talking to Him with a brick wall in between us. I also wasn’t incredibly intent on breaking that wall down. Mostly because I didn’t know how or what that looked like. I was stuck. Distant.
We arrived at the small village church just as the sun sunk behind the horizon and gave way to a huge, beautiful full moon.
The service began just like all our others had. Simple worship with one or two songs in English and then our last song in their native tongue, Telugu. Except this worship service brought conviction. During our first song, a woman was brought into the room. She was severely disabled. She had two men on either side of her, holding her up as her twisted limbs tried to walk. They sat her down near the back and in front of me and a few of my teammates.
My heart felt an instant connection to hers.
And not seconds after she had sat down, God asked me,
“If I asked you to pray healing for her, would you?”
I met this with only minimal apprehension. Knowing that I am in a season of seeking the Lord for my own healing and still trying to figure out what that means and looks like, I have questions of my own, but I found some Holy Spirit boldness and replied,
“Yes Lord!”
I was content with this. But it wasn’t even a whole song later when God asked me another question.
“Will you go sit next to her?”
At this point, everyone else was standing and singing. She was unable to stand, so she was the only one still on the floor. This did not stop her worship though. She was singing as loudly and fervently as anyone else in that room, if not more.
I wrestled with God a lot on this simple request.
I am going to pray for her after service, that should be plenty. I don’t need to show that much attention, that’s a lot of me, I don’t want to freak her out, what would she think? What would my team think?
I continued to wrestle until finally I reasoned with myself,
“Why should I sit next to her?”
The Holy Spirit was quick with the reply,
“Because Jesus said so.”
That got me up out of my seat pretty quick.
I sat down next to her in broken humility. With this “yes“, God brought joy to my spirit. I could feel my smile growing. I knew that a smile could cross any language barrier. Soon she returned my smile and for a good song and a half it was this, to anyone else, awkward string of glances and big smiles and lingering eye contact and big smiles again, but to me, it was a beautiful overflow of Christ’s joy shared between two strangers in a heavenly language.
During the last song, God asked me another question still,
“If I asked you to share your testimony, would you?”
A deep inward sigh followed. I had only shared my testimony publicly twice before in the entirety of the past 8 months and my life for that matter. I had already put together a sermon for tonight that wouldn’t require any gut wrenching vulnerability from me. It was safe. But it wasn’t what God was asking me to do.
It wasn’t a mystery why God was asking me to share my testimony. It involved illness, brokenness, miraculous provision, and present pursuit of complete healing. All things that I could feel her spirit would deeply connect with. My mind fidgeted nervously as I said,
“Okay, God.”
This yes didn’t come without not only personal sacrifice but I also had to quickly ask my other teammate who had planned and prayed about sharing her testimony tonight, to instead preach a sermon so I could share my testimony. I am certain this was not a welcome or easy yes, but nonetheless, she graciously nodded yes and thus, God’s door continued to open, as I again said yes.
Not long after, the singing had ended and it was time for my testimony. But, not before the only two lightbulbs lighting the room exploded into sparks. This had become an all too common occurrence in our evening services. The spiritual warfare here is huge. Every night, the power would go out for minutes at a time, leaving us in the dark. What the enemy meant for distraction, actually brought a beautiful ambiance to God’s presence as we continued on with only candlelight.
I shared my testimony (please read “When God asks you to ask Him for Healing” blog if you would like to know my full testimony). It was uncomfortable and hard, but it was met with almost immediate fruit as several people nodded and agreed and “Amen”ed the whole way through. After my testimony, I sat back down next to the woman and listened to my teammate preach.
As I was sitting there, a quiet peace came over me. I felt like it was radiating from this woman next to me. I bowed my head and soaked it in.
Finally.
The brick wall was gone.
The words escaped my lips,
“God I can feel you so close.”
He almost instantly replied,
“That’s because I’m sitting right next to you.”
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”
Matthew 25:40
There are many keys that unlock the door to intimacy with God, while it might not always be the easiest or seemingly safest choice, obedience never fails to render your heartbeat to the rhythm of Christ Himself.
“As you yield your heart, body, and mind to Him, He will grant you the grace for every step of obedience He calls you to.”
Leslie Ludy
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Challenge from the Mission Field:
Sit and listen to the Lord today. Is He asking you do something? Is it hard? Its it scary? Does it seem weird or crazy?
Do it.
I promise it will be worth it.
Nothing is worth more than to be drawn closer and closer to the one who painted the stars in the Heavens and calls you by name.
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Also, I would love to post pictures of all the amazing beautiful people that I had the pleasure of living alongside this past month in India. However, the persecution against Christians in this country is growing rapidly and is supported by the government. So, for their safety, I have not included them. Take time today to pray for India and the brave souls proclaiming the Gospel to the 90% of Indians who are completely unreached by the Good News of Jesus Christ.
