I have really wrestled with whether or not I should tell these stories. If they are just to be held between Papa and I. If they are too intimate to be publicized, and inevitably politicized. If the questions and doubts I’ve had take away from the truth and power they posses. If the push back I’ve received from some of my inner circle is a sign that what I’ve seen and experienced is more about the human psyche than the powerful movement of the Holy Spirit.
But every time I pray about it, every time I seek scriptures, I feel a blanketing peace that these are the stories I am here to collect and then SHOUT from the rooftops.
So I’m going to boldly and obediently tell you about my experience in India and pray that this lands in a softened heart, because I want you too to encounter the presence and power of God as I have.
After traveling for a full 48 hours we arrived in Hyderabad, India late in the evening. We blew up our sleeping pads and slept for about four hours before jumping into orientation the next morning. They told us about all the rice we would be eating, how to dress, where to find toilet paper, and how to be effective in ministry. My team along with two other teams would be sent into the villages to teach and preach on a nightly basis. They told us that the spiritual darkness is real, and tangible, in India and especially in the villages. I distinctly remember one person telling us “don’t be surprised if you are preaching and see someone in the crowd drop to the ground and start slithering. It happens all the time.” I thought to myself how bizarre that would be to see.
We arrived in the village and the next evening we packed into a rusty, canvas covered van-like vehicle to go to the first house church of the month. Upon arrival I realized the great needs of this community. On top of some severe poverty, I looked into the eyes of the people in front of me and saw a deep thirst for something real and powerful. Something like the living water I know of. Night after night I saw the need, I saw the emptiness, I saw the darkness. I also saw these incredible men and women of God, leading their communities closer to Him every day. I emotionally thanked the Lord every night for their presence, His anointing, and their persistence.
These house churches often gathered on a spread out tarp under the nearest street light. We would arrive to see seven plastic chairs, a large tarp, and 5-10 little kids eager to meet us. The service usually went something like this: we show up, the locals begin worshipping in their native language, we would worship in English, more people would join the crowd, the pastor would introduce us and pray, two of us would tell a testimony, one of us would preach, then we would stand up as everyone in the crowd lined up for prayer. We prayed for healing, provision, health, joy, safety, and for the Holy Spirit to move mightily. We quickly fell into this routine and off we went.
One evening after my teammate Gabby had shared about the love of God, we stood up to start praying. Our translator, a 12 year old boy, grabbed my hand and asked me to come pray for a woman to the side. As I approached her I saw the same need in her eyes as other eyes I saw every night. She looked sad, defeated even. She walked like she was in pain and even winced with every step. She told the translator that she needed healing and she needed help. That’s all she asked for: healing and help. So I said “ok, we can pray for that.” I bent down to touch her left leg and I started praying for her pain, for her legs to be completely restored, for the lord to meet her needs, to provide the help she wants, and heal the physical and emotional. I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back I was basically begging God to heal her. I felt so much compassion for her. I felt so confident that God could heal her if He wanted to. I prayed for a long time and when I said “amen” and stood up, she hugged me. It was one of those long, awkward, I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-my-hands kind of hugs. I called the translator over, asking him what she was saying and he told me with a smile on his face “she says the pain is gone.”
Tears were gathering in her eyes.
She was smiling.
The joy on her face was evident.
We literally jumped with joy. We raised our hands to the sky and said “wandenaloo“ (“praise the Lord!”) over and over.
Then I watched her walk away. Without a limp. Without a winch.
I ended that night thanking Jesus for His power. Thanking Jesus for using my hands to heal that woman.
A few weeks later we went to another church, this time with a brand new open-air, Tin-roofed, cement building. It was my turn to preach and I opted for one of my favorite stories: Jesus and Peter walking on water. I spoke about the fact that nothing separates us from the love of God (Romans 8:38-39) and Jesus is willing to walk miles on the water, in the middle of a storm, to get to us. As I wrapped up my sermon and the team and I stood at the front of the building to pray for people, our translator called me over to pray for a family. When I asked if there were any prayer requests she said “they need protection. And this woman has darkness.” I asked for clarification and the translator said “she has demons. Darkness. For a long time.”
I was a little nervous so I asked my teammate Tiffany to come join us in praying for the family and this woman. We prayed for protection and provision, that God would meet their needs, and heal any brokenness. We asked Him to remove anything that was not of Him. I prayed “if there is any darkness in this woman, in Jesus name it must leave now and go where Jesus sends it.” Just then she fell straight backwards, hitting the ground, and shaking uncontrollably. I looked at Tiff, a little terrified and a lot overwhelmed. Her young son was sobbing and her husband took both kids and left the building quickly. I looked at Tiff and said, “we need to keep praying.” We prayed for a few more minutes then the woman came to. She told the translator that this happens all the time, especially when she asks for prayer. I told her that we needed to keep praying and that I believed this darkness would never taunt her again, that Jesus is far more powerful and even gives us authority over such darkness. We prayed again and this time she didn’t fall. She didn’t collapse. She didn’t shake. We said amen and we could see the shock and surprise on her face. Tiff encouraged her to keep her eyes fixed in Jesus. Later in the evening she pulled us aside and asked us to pray for her again. Like the other woman I prayed for in the beginning of the month, she was visibly joyous, visibly different.
These are just two stories of how radically God is moving in India. The church is growing, people are getting saved daily. This month my eyes were opened to how tangible the kingdom of God really is.
India is the most over-stimulating, hectic, colorful, stinky, overwhelming place I have ever encountered. And in the middle of the chaos stands a King that is all powerful, all knowing, and so so GOOD.
I am praising the Lord today and every day for allowing me to live this beautiful, awesome, exhausting, stretching, FUN life.
Matthew 10:7-8
And proclaim as you go, saying “the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons. You received freely, now give freely.
A side note…
I want to be clear: while in India, we prayed for hundreds of people. Hundreds of broken, needy, people. And we saw these two healings. Two.
On the race, as a squad I’d bet we have prayed for thousands of people, most of them never receiving healing. But that doesn’t stop us from praying. It’s easy to feel defeated when God chooses not to heal. It’s easy to ask “why, God?” But it’s important to remember that God is sovereign (Romans 9:14-16) and is in control of all things. We must remember His character and His mighty love. Our only job is to love Him and love others, walking obediently in what He has called us to. It’s not about us, it’s about Him.
here are some photos from the month. I really really really love these people
