New Delhi 2013

Trip after trip, time after time, I see the same images.... dust everywhere, waves of humanity weaving thru endless days of toil, the filth of human slums, dirty children who despite their condition still run around, smile and play like kids will, women's faces lined with the sorrows of a lifetime bound by poverty and oppression, lonely old men lumbering around in a home for the aged, homeless poor sleeping on road-shoulders. It's not a nice picture. And it sticks in  my mind like a revolving kaleidoscope of nameless lives whose only fault is to be born into  a tough world. They know no other world. Yet I know there is another much better world besides theirs; the world that I live in and oft times take so much for granted (and still gripe about so much). There's nothing like a trip to India to make me grateful for the life I am so blessed with.

7 days in New Delhi and 3 days in Chennai went like a blur. After every missions trip I have difficulty adjusting to my 'normal' life. It's hard to get back to normal mode, after hours of walking in and out of 'houses' so tiny its kitchen is a plain gas stove on the floor, where 1 single thin mattress is bed to a family of 6 and there is barely standing room to move around. Where 'normal' is Q-ing in line to collect trickles of water flowing from a pipe jutting out into filthy water-logged drains. It's disgusting, yes.And heart-wrenching.


India always makes me cry, because once again I am reminded of the sheer magnitude and enormity of a suffering world around me. But what gives me hope over the tears is seeing the grace of redemption beyond the suffering. The church we connected with in New Delhi met in a small, somewhat run-down basement. They didn't have any hi-tech screen displays or hi-fi sound system. The kids sat up front on rough carpet, together with any adults who couldn't find any more chairs to sit on. What touched our hearts was that every meal we ate was sponsored by different families voluntarily taking turns over the days.  Our last meal there was prepared by a sister who, despite having so little, cooked a whole pot of not just chicken but chicken drumsticks for us. Pastor informed us he had told her no need as he knew her situation, yet she had insisted to cook for us. It was a labor of true love, offered  to us, as a service unto God. It reminded me of the widow in the Bible who offered up 2 copper coins as tithes being commended by Jesus because out of her poverty, she put in everything—all she had to live on (Mark 12:44). This is grace. It was more than just a case of being hospitable. None of them need go out of their way like this for us, as we were really complete strangers to them. Or they could easily have arranged to buy pre-packed food for us. But they took all the trouble to cook every dish personally. This kind of hospitality can only come out of a divine love that has been placed into their hearts to love others because of the God who first loved them. 

I was preaching at an outreach of a lady pastor who got saved some 25 years ago when her husband abandoned her at age 21 with an 11 month old baby in her hands. She now ministers to ladies who are traumatized by abuse or abandonment. After the service, a young lady stood up to testify how Jesus healed her when doctors couldn't do anything about her entire throat/stomach which had been burnt thru by the acid she consumed in an attempted suicide after the death of father and husband. As we were about to leave, a sister drew us apart with a request for prayer as she was going to visit a teenager who had been sexually abused by an uncle. I left this church with a lump in my throat. This is grace which empowers suffering people to reach out to touch other suffering people with the love of Christ.

This is the grace of the redeemed, which even in the most helpless of situations, works hope and joy because all it takes is a glimmer of light  to disperse the gloom of darkness. And I remember....God still works miracles today in our midst, to let us see the beauty of the human soul which is saved by His grace, in spite of the harshness of life's realities. It's 1 precious soul at a time, because God cares for each and every 1; and to everyone who responds to His love, He pours out much more grace for that 1 to love another.

I always get back more when I go for missions. For all the money I pay to go, for all the effort of preparation, for all the inconveniences of not being able to sleep in strange places and having to live out of a suit-case, I am the one who returns blessed as I see God's hand so much more clearly  in circumstances beyond my control. I learn humility and surrender when the opportunity to do what I want is snatched away, when the crowd is small, when people don't respond to what I thought was a pretty good sermon on my part, when nothing seems to happen as I pray.  It shows up the shallowness of my motive in serving self/man rather than God. Every now and then I find I need that kind of  'kick' to keep me humble, so that I don't get 'too big for my shoes', and think I am some hot-shot evangelist or miracle healer. I learn to submit to God's will for that situation, trusting that He works all things out for good to those who love Him and according to His purpose. I learn to be thankful for His protection which always comes at the right time, even when we don't even realize we are in danger. On the final day, as we were being driven to the airport, unknown to any one of us, we were traveling on a punctured tyre for dunno how many miles in bad traffic. It was only when the driver pulled up for gas that it was discovered - at a very convenient spot right in the heart of town, where we could catch a bite before boarding the plane home. Call it what you will, to me this is mercy from a God of grace.

Put quite simply, India grows me up a little bit more every time I go. 


For pix click here