The Slums

Today I was sick and stayed home amongst many others on our team. I slept today more than I have slept in a while. It gave me a little bit of a chance to let my heart rest, which was really good for me, I think. A lot has happened since I last updated, and there is no way I can explain to you everything we've experienced. You would think that there would be an overarching theme of some sort that has marked the last three or four days, but each day, though not filled with many different things, are still dense with emotion and digestion with Jesus. I honestly feel a little bit scattered, and don't even know where to start, but let me begin by just saying that my view of God is expanding so much.


Three days ago I almost barfed when I thought of how gross the water was that we walked through. I swallowed my fear and disgust, and kept moving. I must confess that there have been moments on this trip that I have sat in group prayer, and wondered if we all really experience Jesus in a real and intimate way all the days of our lives. The question lies--what is real? What is intimate? I ask the Lord, "Are you as real as the murky water I stand in and as real as the perpetual rain? Can I feel you as vividly as the water dripping from my hair to my forehead and into my eyes?" The answer is "yes," but there are days that go by that I don't feel Him, and I don't hear His voice, and I don't see the work that He is doing in and around me. I don't have hand-raising, spiritual experiences every time I worship Him in song. And here, I don't see His redemptive beauty masking the pain of the children in rags. But I have seen the work of His hands, and I know the power of His love. As I wrestle with Him through these doubts, I find myself praying, "Lord I believe! Help my unbelief!"

As I sat at a stop light in our taxi, two little girls ran up to the window batting their eyes and grabbing my arm. "10 roopie?" they ask. "No," I responded. Then I asked their names--"Apka nam kia hei?" Chaya and Maya were their names. It took everything in me to refrain from holding their faces and kissing their dirty, sweaty, rain-covered foreheads. They operate on a manipulated system of begging and strategizing. It hit me later that day as I thought to myself--this shouldn't be real. This can't actually be real. These kids belong in a movie, but not in the lens of my life. Not in the reality of my present moment. Then it dawned on me that not only is it reality for me at the moment I told these girls my name, but it's real for them too. They know that their lives consist of physical, emotional, and moral filth, and they can't seem to ever get clean. I wonder if at the end of the day, they run through their minds the different people they interacted with throughout the day. I wonder if the words "Mera nam Lindsay hei..." will echo in their minds. Because as they run through my mind, I hear their voices echo, pounding at my heart. How badly I wish I could have just told them that they were beautiful. I have had so many of those moments since I have been here. Just wanting so badly to be able to hold these people and whisper the truth in their ears that they are loved by a God that operates not on chance, but in covenant, and to tell them that He loves them dearly.

I am just a witness to the pain. I walk through the city, I don't live here. I don't run up grabbing the arms of strangers; I don't sit in a brothel and wait for customers; I don't honk my horn as I barely brush by the cars and buses on my right and left. I am merely a bystander. Yesterday, as we walked through the slums, I was numb. I saw babies pooping on the sidewalk, bodies squeezed into a small 4x4 square to sleep. Dirty clothes, dirty water, dirty walls, dirty homes--eyes were the only things not covered in dirt. On the flip side, I saw TVs, cell phones, women brushing one another's hair, smiles, laughter. I felt so conflicted. The more I processed it, the more I realized how American my view of Christianity can be. While these people have next to nothing, they seemed so content. this is all that they know, so to them, it's okay. But it's not okay. They didn't choose to live like that, they were born into those circumstances. It's not fair, and God's heart breaks for the poor, but while these people are physically poor, even more--their souls are poor.


One of the guys on our team brought up the song "break my heart for what breaks yours..."and he said--Lord, I can't handle that. It's the truth. we can't handle it. We've seen such a small glimpse of what breaks the heart of our God, and we are left shaken. "How can this be, God? If you are who you say you are, how can this be?" we cry out. The reality is, materialistically, we cannot bring to these people homes. We cannot bring them each a pair of shoes and plumbing for toilets. How can we stand here and say that is what they need? There is nothing we can do for them except recognize their spiritual bankruptcy and yearn for their salvation. Seeing them living in brokenness reveals their need for Jesus even more. Yesterday, the best thing we could do was pray--for we know our God hears the cries of our hearts.

Jesus, I thank you that when we can't, you can. I thank you that you are the God who sees, and that you see and love each person here in this big city in South Asia for they all bear your very image. God, I thank you that these people will not come to you through the materials that we hold in our hands or by the words that spill from our mouths, but that it is only by your doing that anyone can come to know you. So, Lord, I ask that you would remove the shackles from their eyes to reveal the richness of eternity--to the richness of relationship with you. Would you open their ears to hear, and their eyes to see and their hearts to receive your grace? Lord, in thinking about home, I am reminded of the multi-million dollar slums back in America. Those people may have material wealth, but they are dead in spirit. Will you show them their need for you too, Father? I love you and thank you that you are the God of redemption. In your name, Jesus, Amen.

"The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance." --2 Peter 3:9

"Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for He has said, 'I will never leave nor forsake you.'" --Hebrews 13:5

Jesus must be our treasure, here in poverty, and home in wealth. Even amidst suffering, He is here. So as I keep walking through this city murky with sin that makes me want to barf, the Spirit gives me grace to swallow my fear, and I move forward. I keep walking by faith and trusting that more real than the smell of garbage is the fragrance of hope, and more vivid than the colorful sacrifices to Hindu Gods is my sin made white as snow. This city needs Jesus. Pray that He comes...