He's Bigger

Friday was a day unlike any other. It started out with children. Maybe 30 children--children singing and dancing--children that don't know their parents, but who know their Father. They ached to be looked pleasingly upon, they ached for a genuine, loving touch; they ached for hope. So we told them about their Rescuer, the Calmer of the storm. We told them the story of how Jesus commanded the storm at sea to stop. We told them how the wind and the waves that He created obeyed Him. We told them that they had no reason to fear for Jesus was with them. We told them that while the storm was too big for the disciples to handle that it was not too big for our Jesus--

no matter how big the waves and no matter how small the boat.

So we told these kids that our God is bigger; that our Jesus is the Protector; we proclaimed that Jesus is King over all; that He sees them and understands their storms, but as I walked out of the room full of cackling laughter and songs of praise, I walked into the biggest storm of my life--riveted just like the disciples who doubted. Wherever we walked that day, I clutched tightly to the nail-scarred hand of my King and ran every thought by Him. I talked to Him as I walked through a home for blind men. Men lived there who had either been born into blindness or who were inflicted into blindness. Many of them are struggling to find work, but most of them had hope in Jesus and Jesus alone.

We left from there for Oasis--the health center where prostitutes seek help either medically or mentally. We walked there with two power-women: Zeba and Monisha. Zeba explained as we walked that we needed to walk quickly and powerfully. They pointed out the brothels. They were everywhere. "A horrible place," Zeba would comment in her broken English. People stared, but continued on as if life was normal there. That it was normal to set up shop at the base of a building where hundreds of women held their shop after regular "business hours." I saw a man that made my stomach turn as he stood in the shadows behind a gate smoking a cigarette. He didn't think we could see him, and I could tell that he was startled when I caught his gaze; but he scared me. His eyes sent a chill down my spine. I've been continually having to ask for forgiveness, because as I see men like him, I've begun to assume that they are defenders of this evil, and therefore my opponents. Even if that man were one of the men that stick around until late and wander up the stairs to the bed of a girl that could be the age of his daughter, he is not my opponent. In fact, I need to pray that his eyes would be opened to what his true needs are. That man--the one that sent the chills down my spine, has needs in his heart that he is dealing with in dehumanizing and destructive ways. He has a God-shaped hole in his heart, and I pray that Jesus would reveal that He is the One who formed these women and girls, not for the purpose of being a temporary satisfaction for hungry men, but rather to love and be loved.

When we crossed the crowded streets, Zeba commanded the traffic--this woman, maybe 95 pounds was one of the most joyful in spirit and strong in will that I have ever met. She pointed up over almost every building saying, "this one is horrible. They all are, but this one..." and she'd shake her head. As I walked with her, I couldn't help but wonder where the heck a women like her got off being so strong. We passed fruit and vegetable vendors, condom stands, kids playing in knee-deep gutter water, dumpsters parked in front of people's "homes", naked kids, women sitting cross-legged on the dirty ground, men on motor bikes with infants on the front, taxis honking, nice cars passing with Indian rap screaming out the windows, cattle walking down the center of the road, taxis parked with legs hanging out the door--a "comfortable" place to sleep, women and men and children sleeping on a dirty sidewalk with flies buzzing all around them, men sitting in the doorway of their shack shoveling sloppy rice into their mouths with their hands, kids washing one another in 5 gallon buckets of murky water, babies alone crying, and above it all--a canopy of leaves.

I ran through my mind a verse that I had read earlier in the morning from Revelation that said there would be a clean river of water running from the throne of God through the middle of the city; on either side the trees of life. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed. Revelation 22:2, 3 The city will have a river of water--bright as crystal running from the throne of God and He will rule the city. As I walked, trying my hardest to take in all of the sights and smells, I reminded myself that if Jesus is leading my every step, if Jesus is bigger than every storm, if Jesus promised to be with me to the end of the age, if Jesus told me to take up my cross--then there is nothing I'm seeing or experiencing that He isn't. There is nothing--not even this street in Mumbai that His heart isn't breaking over.

The God of heaven and earth dwells and resides in my heart, and He takes every step with me. He is my Father. When I began to weep silently after speaking with and praying for a group of 5 eunuchs, He held my cheeks and reminded me that this was not how it was supposed to be. He reminded me that the thief comes only to steal, and kill, and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good Shepherd. The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a Shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. (John 10:10-13)

I can't help but think that someone decided to take the lives of these eunuchs and lay them down for their own life. But Christ took His own life for the sake of many, and no matter how far those eunuchs feel from a God who cares deeply--a Good Shepherd who leads them by still waters--a Creator who knows them and protects them, Jesus stands up and cries out to them. "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink! Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'" (John 7:37, 38). He calls to them and holds His arms open wide, and I? I've been anointed to bring good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives. So as I wept silently, my heart screamed out from the deepest part of my being to Jesus--for Him to come--for His kingdom to come to earth through my hands and feet. Through the hands and feet of those who serve the Good Shepherd.

It was those same feet I was praying for the Lord to use that finally got us to Oasis. When we got there, we got a short orientation, split up in small groups, and headed out to the brothels.

TO BE CONTINUED.
I'm running out of internet time, but my next entry is the hardest one for me to write. So keep your eyes open, it should be posted pretty soon...

Pray for Jesus to make Himself known as the ONE AND ONLY God to the men, women, and children living in poverty and destruction here in Mumbai. Get on your knees for them--so many are without defenders...