Broken-hearted in the Slums

So far, I have enjoyed this trip and seen the Lord do many things, but yesterday was really hard.  Early in the morning, we met a pastor who ministers in the slums.  I consider it a privilege to have met him because he and his family have remained faithful though severely persecuted.  A few years ago, some people who oppose the gospel dragged him, his wife and his 4 children from a church service and beat them and threw stones at them – even at his 4 year old daughter.  He and his wife ended up in the hospital yet they continued their ministry to that place.

Initially, my team arrived at the pastor’s house, just outside the slums, and met 40 members of his congregation.  We found it safer (for them) to meet them outside the slums than inside.  They greeted us warmly and presented us each with a flower lai.  What a blessing to meet these brothers and sisters!

Soon we entered a phase of the slums.  We prayer walked and visited the homes of believers to pray for and encourage them.  Many times we prayed for God to heal people of various physical ailments.  At one point, we met a small boy with a terrible cough.  Some of my teammates prayed for him, and he stopped coughing.  Even when we saw him later, he had no cough.  Praise God!

We then returned to the pastor’s house and served his congregation a meal.  Again, your financial gifts made this possible and your prayer support kept the situation safe enough for us to do this.  Sincerely, thank you.

After lunch, we entered a different phase of the slums, and older one.  Immediately, I could tell the difference.  This one reeked of desperation.  As we drove through, swarms of people crowded the streets and stared at us.  Blankly.  No hope.  No purpose.  Just dead.  Quiet.  Cold. 
Lord, how can I reach these people?  What do I possibly have to offer?

I began smiling at people, one by one.  Some smiled back so I continued.  Maybe they could see Jesus in my smile.  I hope so.  I didn’t know what else to do.

Eventually we came to a small thatch-roofed house in which we could barely stand up – the home of believers.  WE began to pray for the family, but our leaders cut the prayer short and quickly ushered us back to our Jeeps.  I could tell our drivers felt anxious to leave, but I didn’t know what was happening.  No time for an explanation.

As we left, I continued to study the desperate faces.  No hope.  It broke my heart.

When we finally made it out of the area, we learned that the people who had beat the pastor’s family had showed up at the doorstep.  No wonder we left so quickly!

Afterwards, I struggled emotionally.  It is hard to explain what it felt like.  Anger.  Frustration.  Desperation.  Sorrow.  Grief.  I wanted to be alone. 
God, where are you in this?

The long ride home was silent, completely silent.

But suddenly, God showed up.  We drove to the orphanage and arrived just in time for worship and prayer.  I found myself surrounded by small children singing their hearts out to the Lord.  I wish I could tell you what is sounded like, but you needed to be there to understand.  It was good.  God used it to redeem the desperation in my soul.  Finally, I saw hope.  I saw life. 

God is in this place.  India may be full of hopeless people, but our God is raising up a mighty orphan army to bust through the darkness with His amazing light.  Praise Him!