Expectations Up-Ended

The night before I left for the trip, I had a little freakout. I said to Kyle, "I just don't know. What am I going to see there?" In the end, that pretty much covers it. I was afraid. What would I see? Would I be able to handle it? Would I be okay? And how would it be when I came home? I can say that I went on this trip with very little in the way of expectations...not because I am just that free inside, but because I really had no idea what to expect. One expectation I did have, however, was for it to be sad and depressing. While the trip and many of the things we saw were very sad, the trip itself was not depressing overall.

The conditions for many in India are horrifying. Aside from the daily chaos of intense heat and humidity, incredible overcrowding (India, at approximate 1/3 the size of the US, has 1/6 of the world's population, and will soon eclipse China as the most populous nation on earth), and a general absence of local infrastructure, there is much more. In the process of writing my posts here, I'm sure I'll include many specific stories. For the purposes of overview, however, I will just say that much of what we saw - and saw practically everywhere we went - was heartbreaking.

Before I left, and during my trip, I prayed to have a soft heart. I prayed that my heart would be available for breaking as I saw all there was to see. Even in such extremity, the potential was definitely there to become "used to it" and to not truly see all that was around us. Much of it was astounding. All of it was humbling. As our trip progressed, however, I was more and more convinced of how much hope there is in the work of the ministries we visited. One of last nights there, we sat and listened to children, no older than 13 or 14, tell their stories and give their testimonies of the faithfulness of God. These are children who'd been living on the street, subjected to every horror imaginable...often again and again.

Freddy & Daisy are the amazing couple who run this home (as well as an astounding ministry throughout the local streets & slum villages). With the rescued kids, they & their staff put specific energy into working on forgiveness; they know it's a necessary component of peacefulness.

One girl got up to tell her story and even as I prepare to type this out, my heart is swelling with emotion. She was 13 years old, and her name was Prithi (pree-thee. Prithi had been raised for the first years of her life as a Muslim, by her mother who was a prostitute. Prithi's mother left for an extended time to work in Dubai, and left her daughter in the care of her pimp. The pimp quickly began selling Prithi into sexual slavery. She was only a child. At a certain point, Prithi was gang-raped and violated in such ways that she was left unable to walk. Eventually, she was taken to the hospital. It was explained to us that it was unknown (read: surprising) why the pimp took her to the hospital, but "probably he didn't want to lose her as a worker, and was afraid she would die." This was how badly she was injured in the course of her assault.

While in the hospital, Prithi's mother was summoned, but did not want to allow this Children's Home to take guardianship of her daughter. The mother asserted that she didn't believe that her "husband" (the pimp) would betray her daughter in this way, and that was supposed to be the final word on the matter. The sad news is that I'm certain Prithi's story is not unique, and for many young women, that may be the end of the story. However, over the time of her hospital recovery, Prithi convinced a doctor to assist her, and the doctor helped Prithi to convince her mother to release Prithi into the care of the home. The doctor was a friend of Daisy's, and contact her about giving Prithi a chance at a new life. Eventually, the mother signed the appropriate waivers, and Prithi was taken to the Restoration Home.

As I listened to her speak, it was amazing to think that she'd lived through what she was describing. I didn't need the translator's help to understand clearly that her life was very different now from the conditions she described as her past. Although the home is a Christian one, upon arriving Prithi was allowed to continue with her Muslim practices. She soon started to see, however, that the others around her - many of whom had lived through similar painful circumstances - had a type of peace and hope she did not feel herself. Eventually, she put away her Koran, and began reading the Bible. As she said in her testimony, "although she did not have a mom or dad now, she now knew that she had a Father who would never leave her.” She explained, with absolute humility and simple grace that she had come to know Jesus, and that He had helped her to forgive the people who had harmed her.

Prithi had literally lived the types of horrors I usually think of when I think of my own problems and remind myself that "it could be worse." My "worse" was her story, and watching her speak, it was evident that she carried within her a Spirit of peace and rest. She had a light in her face, and gentleness in her presence that I have learned to recognize as the Holy Spirit's signature. She was okay. And better than okay, she was restored.

After living for the next few years in the home, she will have a Christian marriage arranged for her (as is Indian custom), and she will wear white. She will be a pure bride, wiped clean of the filth she knew by a Father who, she's right, will never leave her.

My understanding, as Daisy elaborated on her story later, is that she still has physical illnesses and scars for which she needs regular treatment. Her body, as all ours are, is broken in ways that will not perhaps be healed in this life. But her heart was redeemed and her life is being transformed. Prithi was transforming before my very eyes.

Do you know how long she'd been in the home? About 6 months, if memory serves. In less than 1/2 a year's time, she had gone from a wounded victim to a healing and peaceful child of the One true God. She started her testimony with, "I want to give Glory to God." It was her explanation for why she wanted to share her story (many others began their stories the same way). As I listened, I though that simply by standing there, her inner-radiance apparent, she spoke volumes about God, about who He is, and what it is that He is truly all about.

I went to India afraid. Afraid of the things I would see there, afraid of how it would hurt inside me. And I did hurt. I saw things, many things, that made me cry. I will (I pray) always hurt for India. However, I was reminded early in my trip to keep my focus on the God I serve. From the beginning, He has been a God of Redemption, of re-creation and of faithful restoration. He is the Lord of Transformation, and He restores. It is for this reason that I did not leave India wounded by my journey.

I left profoundly aware of the darkness there, and the need for His healing hand, but even more profound for me was a sense of awe, and of hope, inspired by witnessing first hand the way in which this amazing God steps into the blackest and thickest of darkness and draws out His light from within our own hearts. His heart, I am beyond convinced, is one of compassion and adoration for each and every man, woman and child suffering through life. I had moments there where I could practically see Jesus next to me, weeping for the desecration of one of His precious children. I also had moments, though, in which I wept - moved by the evidence of that which one's heart seems to always hope for...at least mine does... a child lost in darkness is never lost forever. A spirit tarnished, damaged and abused by the fallen world in which we live is never far from His own heart. He is not only present, He is powerful. And seeing living proof, again and again, of His heart's passion and love for these seemingly forgotten children is the reason I left India blessed, humbled, inspired and awash with new gratitude.

I prayed throughout the trip to see these people the way God does. I saw people broken apparently tossed aside by a world that didn't seem all that interested in caring for them. I saw people, children split into pieces by what was the basic reality of their daily lives. What I also saw, though, was light and love and powerful, powerful transformation. "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost." I praise Him for exactly that. It's a story of Redemption, and it was an honor to see it being lived out in so many obvious ways.

As I left my cozy life in Kansas City, fearing what I might see, I went determined to help. I have returned, however, to a life that is just as cozy as when I left it...and we did help. It is good for the soul to do the work of coming alongside. But, more than that, I was helped. Prithi helped me. Freddy & Daisy helped me. The countless others we saw, and the stories I heard helped me. Faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see. I'm excited to say that, after this point, I now have a whole new level of things to hope for that are yet unseen. For I have now seen some of those things I'd only hoped for before. I am forever changed. And grateful beyond what words can convey.

Drive from the Aiport to the Hotel

One of the many moving snapshots of life during the trip came on our drive from arriving at the airport to our hotel. I realized, at a certain point, that I was internally waiting for the "other" part of town. There were rundown buildings and trash-covered sidewalks everywhere. The truth, however, was that there was no "other" part of town. This was it. Chennai.

The most impacting moment, however, came as Wick was telling us about what we were seeing out the windows of our van. There were people - lots of people - laying on the sidewalks. "They live there," he said. No blankets, no cardboard boxes even. Just laying down on the sidewalk, close to the road, in the filth...sleeping. In that same moment, as I was letting that reality hit me, I saw a person laying on the sidewalk, and then saw a small child come up, lay down and cuddle on top of them. That spot was where he's sleep that night; he had no other home.

This was the situation of life there for countless thousands upon thousands - and that number is only in Chennai. There are MILLIONS orphaned, alone and living on the street in India. The men, women and children represent a hurting population about whom many there do not care. More on this in another post, but the sight of a little boy curling up next to his mom (I assume) in the dirty street was heartbreaking. The fact that there were probably 100 more to be seen on that single drive from the airport to our hotel was even more powerful.

Contradictions in the Streets

While in India, there was a sharp and disturbing set of seeming contradictions in play. This is a culture in which the movie stars do not kiss in movies; they modestly just turn their heads to the sides, and the scene ends. Romantic physical and sexual contact are not a topic of conversation the way they are in the US. Yet, at the same time, we heard story after story of children being sold on the street for sex slavery, sex trafficking, and more. There were dozens of stories - among only the children with which we came into contact - about prostitution, child prostitution and rampant sexual abuse, exploitation and assault.

(In the home we visited for HIV+ children and women, the impacts of the "modest" culture were even more apparent. More on that in another post...)

A contradiction that was even more upsetting to me, personally, was apparent in the streets. There were people in various stages of dying all over the place. All over. Dirty, hungry, sick and broken. And they were literally in every direction your eye could look. How to begin to even fathom this fact?

In the course of our trip, a powerful observation was made by our collective conversations: India is a country whose culture is based on Hinduism. (Please know, I am not an expert on this subject - far from it, so please forgive me if there are places where I could be more accurate. My explanation here is meant to give rudimentary context, not theological instruction. That said... ) The Hindu belief system doesn't include within it the same kind of understanding of human life that we may have. There is no "self evident" truth that all men are created equal. In fact, within the framework of reincarnation, each person more or less has "earned" his or her station in life through a previous life or series of lives. So, the wealthy, well kept and healthy have earned their favor. Whereas the poverty stricken, starving and marginalized have, likewise, deserved their own situation. As I let this concept seep in, it began to make more sense - intellectually - why a people may not seem to give much care or concern for the unfathomably poor, but might also go out of its way to honor and protect cattle as they freely wander the streets.

One other specific comment was made that also had a huge impact on my view of these things: "It's a culture with as many as 300 million gods, and none of them care." Ah, light bulb. Regardless of your own personal view on God or the status of your relationship with Jesus, our western cultures are rooted in Christian beliefs (thank You, God!). We believe in the inherent value of human life. We are motivated to be altruistic. And, at the very least, we are sorry and sad for those who are in need.

A co-worker who recently visited India shared with me one of his experiences. He visited a Hindu temple, and although he was allowed to be there as a westerner (and Christian), as he approached the statues of some of the gods, the workers in the temple got very very busy covering the air with incense and other smelling powders. After he left, it was explained to him that the belief is that his smell - as a human - is a reminder of his presence that the gods (or at least that particular god) found offensive. The coverings worn by the woman he saw there, and the abundance of incense was meant to mask the presence of man. His simple reflection on this topic summed it up well: "We know God loves us and accepts us just as we are, so it seems so weird." Well, yeah, weird. And it certainly makes the structure of their world make more and more sense. I've been thinking about this for a couple weeks now, and has lent itself to a real sense of sadness for the people of India, and an inexplicable seed of understand about how their culture could be in the place in which it is. Pray friends. Please.

Broken

The woman pictured here was selling Q-tips. She was essentially a beggar. There were many, many beggars - ranging in age from young children to the elderly. The baby on her shoulder was very possibly drugged, as women there rent out their babies to others so that their begging efforts may be more "effective." The drugged babies often die as a result of the misuse of their bodies. While it's easy for me to be outraged at this mistreatment of these precious children, my heart is also prompted with a deep and humbling recognition of the desperation behind it. Not that it's okay; not that it's anything less than abhorrent. These people are desperate. They do things and behave in ways that seem unconscionable to us. Their lives are not like ours, though.

In the slums, some of the members of our group saw someone cooking a dead cat over an open flame, on a rotisserie style stick. The cat was already in rigor, which means it had been dead for awhile already, before this person had decided to use it for food. While this story is repulsive, and I am truly glad I wasn't in the group that saw this particular sight, upon hearing it, my heart just felt sad. I feel that same sadness as I write this. They're hungry. They're the living dying. They're starving. There is not enough food. Not enough water. Not enough room and far less concern than seems conceivable. A man was eating a long-past dead cat. It's disgusting. And, it was his best option. As I think about that, there's only one thing I know to say next...

Please pray. Pray for these people. Pray for India. Send your money, send your resources, send yourselves if you're willing...but please, send your prayers. I praise God that "the earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results" (James 5:16). Please. Pray.

If I learned anything on this trip it is that our stories and the circumstances of our hearts have remarkably little to do with who we are. Instead, our restoration, transformation and entire well-being are completely dependent upon and evidence of a God who loves each and every one of us more than either you or I could ever know. It's only by His power that any of us have a chance. Pray. Please. By His power, amazing things happen. I will write more on the living proof I saw of this in posts to come. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

Wading through the Crowds

Imagine being somewhere that is SOOO full of people, that the idea of "personal space" is all but ridiculous. Now take the crowd and take it times 10. Now, make sure you're imagining full body-to-body contact. How does one get around such a crowd? Well, by shoving your way through. Seriously. Welcome to India. These pictures are from Pothy's, the store we went to in order to purchase the fabric that the women on the trip would have made into Punjabis. It was insane.

Literally, the way around was just to push your way past all the throngs around you. I suddenly understood how and why trampling deaths occur in India. It wouldn't take a crazed crowd that's been rendered insane by fear; it would just take a need for everyone to get out at once. The sheer crowd itself would see to the crushing; hysteria not required.

I found myself really considering what it would be like to live in that environment day in and day out. The order and politesse that we take for granted here in the states are nowhere to be found. My view may be (and surely is) tainted by my own limited circle of experience, but I cannot imagine fighting through the chaos each day without it taking a toll of energy and stress upon an individual. Even in that simple way, it gave me new respect for how challenging life in Chennai could be for someone who lived here each day.

Pictures of Trash

I laughed as I looked at my pictures from the trip; I'd taken quite a few pictures of...well...trash. Interestingly, though, these pictures are sort of integral to understanding what it was like to be there. There is and was trash pretty much everywhere.

There is certainly not the taboo on littering that we see in the states. In fact, the concept of littering is a foreign one for the Indians we encountered. We constantly saw people dropping trash right where they stood. What's humbling is to realize that many live off of this trash...dogs, livestock and yes, people.

In the airport, I was trying to throw something away, but couldn't find a trash can (no surprise, they don't really have public-use trashcans). A man who worked there figured out what I was doing and indicated to me that I should just throw it on the ground. In the airport. That should have been my first hint at what was to come. I couldn't quite bring myself to just throw it on the ground. But, at his urging, I did finally put it on a chair with some other trash. I have no idea when/if it would get cleaned up. Such was the way of life there.

One person in our group commented that the streets of Chennai looked like they were war-torn. It was true; the street sides and places where curbs may have once been did in many places look like they were remnants of a city that had been bombed. Some things can never be truly captured or seen through the lens of a camera, but I hope these have helped convey a little of it. Imagine living in this place, day in and day out. There was difference between the "nice" areas and the other areas. This type of garbage-strewn landscape was truly all over.

Little Lights in the Darkness

Faces like these made it impossible to despair while visiting the various children's homes. Are they not the cutest possible? They LOVED having their picture taken...the challenge was convincing them that they didn't need to be 1 inch away from the camera, and that they could back up! Ha! These three girls, at the home for the children of lepers (taken out of leper colonies where they're sure to contract the disease), were obviously "best friends" and moved mostly as a little trio. They stole my heart, especially the one in purple, Banu.

Day by Day Rundown (Chennai, India Trip)

If you'd like a basic run down of our day-by-day activities while in India, please check out the blog that Streams of Mercy kept up each day. Patty did a great job of keeping this updated with basic info, as well as pictures of the team's activities and great stories about why the work being done is so important. You can link by clicking on the title of this post, or by going directly to http://streamsofmercyblog.blogspot.com/