You don’t know true food poisoning until you get to India.
Don’t get me wrong, the fruit are so colorful, and the smell of some potato-fried chaat is enough to make your mouth salivate—perhaps I just became too trusting. It’s hard to narrow down just what it was that has kept me up all night, sleeping on the cold tiles of our hostile right outside the bathroom door. The possibilities are endless when sample upon sample of new flavors and foods I’ve never seen before are shoved in my face. You would have thought I’d learned my lesson in Indonesia, but I have not, nor will I turn down the opportunity to experience cultural foods!
I know it happened for a reason.
I wish I could have you, reader, in person for a day. There is hardly a consistent flow and each day could write a blog of it’s own. India is so full of life, of color, of culture I’ve never known possible. It’s beautiful, until it’s not…
India has been my toughest month, by far. Our first two weeks we were ushered into one of the coolest ministries—each day, we would travel up to two hours by bus into rural out-villages. For what? Door to door evangelism and prayer, that allowed such unity among us and the people, and also among my squad. We worshipped in Indian churches, ate rice and curry at every meal, and made fools out of ourselves dancing with small brown children. Each night was an opportunity to worship, share testimonies, and deliver a Gospel message.
So what’s made it so tough, you may ask?
A spirit of confusion began to blur the truths that brought me to the field in the first place. Am I being effective? Is this His best for me? God, where are you in these villages? Why are we travelling the world for you? Though I knew the answers, doubt and confusion filled my head. My worship became empty and I began secluding myself from the squad. But in the midst of the confusion and chaos in my own head, the Lord brought me to Him. We talked, we fellowshipped, we argued. He’s continuing to cater to my questions and bring me into a deeper intimacy with Him through my quiet time.
There isn’t a quick solution, India continues to be a wrestle for me. I miss home. I miss my family, my car, my gym, my community. In Month 4, the reality of the Race has hit me. And while wrestling with the thought of eight more months, the Lord gives me just my daily dose of encouragement—may it be through meeting fellow believers, touring all of Hyderabad with my new friend from Starbucks, or riding a 28 hour train to New Delhi with a new found community of compassionate and loving Indians, He’s shown me to just live in today. And to embrace my present blessings. And that those blessings are only recognized when I decide joy over frustration.
The Lord showed me my own words on Launch weekend, January, 15, 2018 in my journal, “Father, may I learn to be so uncomfortable in my flesh that the only peace and comfort I feel is from you alone.” In seeing that, the Lord reminds me that He hears and answers prayers; through the heat, the bugs, the busyness, and the past 24 hours of nausea, He promises to bring peace in the midst of my physical discomfort.
