154,080 Minutes: Broken

What a shattered, tortured world we live in. Inside our souls we know this planet isn't the way it was supposed to be. Our hearts either cry out in agony for our pain and the pain of others or they harden to the suffering around and in us.

How can we talk about the pain, the death? What hope is there?

A couple weeks ago, I caught a glimpse of an elder women on the side of the road. She reached out in front of her and drug her lower body through the dirt. I don't think she had legs. The bus quickly passed her little form, obscuring my sight of her in the dust.

Had she always lived like this? Why did no one help her?

A month ago, I walked by a crippled man at the bus station. His clothes wrapped him in torn bits. His face strained with each movement. My Christian music floated into my ears through my earphones as I watched him drag his atrophied legs across the cement. No one seemed to notice.

What life had he lived? Did he ever experience joy?

About a month and half ago, the students and I worked to clean the school's campus. After cutting large amounts of grass and brush with dull machetes, I brought my room's trash to the fire outside the campus gates to be burned. A woman appeared. I didn't see where she had come from. Her clothes were dingy and her hair frayed. She gave me an embarrassed smiled and then called over her shoulder. A young boy joined her and they started to go through the trash I had brought. I didn't know what to do. The boy smiled at me as I turned to leave.

What brought them to this place? Why did they need to go through the trash to survive?

Several months ago I traveled six or more hours by bus to the state of Andhra Pradesh. We came to visit a HIV hospital run by a pair of amazing people, Emery and Usha Reese. There I had the opportunity to participate in a youth program put on for a 140 HIV positive children. I played with them. I laughed with them. It broke my heart.

Everyone of these beautiful children are HIV positive.

Three of the children stand out in my memory. One was a boy of about ten or eleven. He wore his best clothes, jeans and a blue button up shirt. He left the regular program several times, coughing terribly. Usha told me his body had succumbed to HIV and reached AIDS stages. His immune system had shut down and he had contracted TB.

Another was a beautiful little girl. She smiled all of the time and ran with delight. She posed for Usha's camera like a model. She played the games with great strategy and enthusiasm. Usha told me that her parents were dead. Her mother had died last year from HIV. How long the little girl had to live herself, no one knows. I never would have known that she suffered from the appalling disease unless Usha had told me.

The last was a sickly, little girl of about eight. She didn't play much, if at all. A frown lay across her face every time I saw her. Her dark hair lay thin and short across her little head. A bandage wrapped most of one of her skinny, little arms. Her entire body displayed frailty. I never talked to her and I don't think she ever paid attention to the white guy who's heart broke for her.

None of these children had chosen to have this disease. Why them? Why not me?

There is much more pain in the world. You don't have to go to India or Africa to see it. Many might ask, "Where is God? Where is this loving God your little book speaks about? I don't see Him helping those HIV positive children." My answer, "I do. I see God loving them in their brokenness as he has loved me in mine."

At first, I asked God why he would love me. Why would he love me when these children died, these elders lay crippled, and these people hungered? His answer? He'll always love me.

Did you know Jesus calls all into his loving arms? I feel like a lot of people who call themselves Christians have forgotten this. I have many times.

The church... to us it means an institute. It means a building, a organization. But this is not meaning of ekklesia. Ekklesia is the Greek word predominately translated as "church" in the bible. It means a gathering of people and has zero to do with a building.

Jesus called his church, his people, to reach into the dark places. He called us to love no matter what. He never called us to defend our egos. He didn't tell us to fight for our faith's validity in a skeptical culture. He said love.

Jesus loved. He loves. His plan was and is for his church to love.

I think I would die without Christ's love in my life. I am a broken man. In many ways I have only become more broke since coming to India. All of the confusing emotions inside of me, all of the pain I see, and all the love I've been shown has broken me.

Nevertheless, Christ has shown me how deep his love is for me in my brokenness. I am loved and I want to show God's love to others. Jesus' love is great and the only source of peace in this screwed up world.

I don't understand sometimes.  Why don't people see Jesus' love? It isn't Jesus' fault. He loved and loves perfectly. Deep down I know one of the main reason people don't know his love. It is Christians. Many Christians themselves have been a barrier in between the truth of God's love and the world. The fact fills me with sorrow.

I am sincerely sorry for the ministers who abuse, the missionaries throughout the ages who murdered to force conversion, the crusaders who fought and raped in the name of Christ, the televangelists who manipulate for monetary gain, and the Christians who shower condemnation on the "sinners" around them. I am sorry that they didn't show Jesus' love. 

I am sorry for my own pride. For so long, I have thought myself better than others because of my works, my upbringing, my intellect and my status. What a lie this is. I am sorry that I didn't love perfectly. I'm not very good at it.

I and many others have faltered to show the true love of Christ for two millennia. But Jesus loves perfectly. He loves you equally as he loves me, and neither of us can begin to imagine the depth of that love.

This world is a terrible, pain-warped place. There is death all around us. Even the physically healthy are dying. There is no time to live for ourselves because we will only disappoint ourselves. I want to live for Christ and to show his love to the broken (including myself).

Don't rely people to solve the problems of the world. The world is broken. The people are broken. I am broken. God alone is not broken. In Him alone can we find rest from the physical, spiritual, and emotional torture of this world.  

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." ~ Jesus (Matt 11:28-30)

136,800 Minutes: Tick

I hear it every night before I sleep. Tick... Tick... Tick... The sound is rhythmic. It never misses a beat. It resides in my imagination, but feels more real every moment. It is brings joy and sorrow with every promised tick. 

The invisible second hand on the clock of my life won't stop. This clock is crying out to me. It is reminding me that my time here is short. India will soon be in my past. 

It is bittersweet. The seconds are disappearing here and I hate to lie... I've been counting the days for a long time.

I don't feel bad about my daily habit of looking at the calendar. I yearn to see and hug my beloved fiancé again. I miss my family. I grieve the late night conversations and being cray with my college roommates. I wish to begin leading and doing ministry at TLC again.  I miss stuffed crust, pepperoni pizza.

I refuse to feel guilty for these desires.

And then there's culture shock. The return home promises a possible end to the emotional ups and downs I experience every day. It promises that I will no longer be viewed as the white foreigner from America.

Furthermore, my departure promises a return to the high paced, well-scheduled lifestyle of America. I never thought I would miss that lifestyle. I know if I stayed here for another four months then I would fear returning to this society. But, now, I want my schedule. I want the speed.

This is culture shock. I almost wish I had time to push through to the other side. . . But here I am counting the days.

God is not deterred. I know He doesn't count my counting against me. He, more than anyone, understands me. He hears the sound too... Tick... Tick... Tick...

In the days I have been counting God has given me more gifts and stories than I can type. Though I wished at the time to be home, I wouldn't give up these last days. They have shaped my life forever.

I'm going to miss many, many things about India. Most of all I will miss the people who have shown me so much love. I'll never stop praying for them and I hope I get to see some of them again someday...

I can hear it again.

Tick... Tick... Tick... The sound is rhythmic. It never misses a beat. It resides in my imagination, but feels more real every moment. It reminds me that my time here is dissipating.

I will soon leave this earth just like I will soon leave India. The only difference is that I can't count the days. I wonder if God is counting the days for me? I wonder if God is watching the celestial calendar, anticipating the arrival of His beloved, adopted son?

I like to think God is. He is longing for me to come home, just as I am longing to be home. What a beautiful thought...

God desires to hold me in his arms. I know it. Nevertheless, He is choosing to wait. He is waiting for his perfect plan to be completed in me. I suppose I can trust my Daddy and wait like Him.

Tick... Tick... Tick... My time is almost up. Though I count, I don't despise this place. Though I wait to leave, I still desire to see these people again. Though the time is unknown when I will see my great Daddy face to face, I will allow Him to work in me while I'm here on earth. 

  

123,840 Minutes: Bear Hunting

What would you do if you were in India and found out an hour before that you had to sing a song from your culture? Well, I don't know about you, but a bear hunt sounded good to me. :)

My camp counselor friends would be proud, I'm sure!

Why the song? On Lakeview Bible College's campus there are a wide variety of cultures represented. Yesterday we all showed our culture.

We all made traditional food to share in a huge feast (Delicious). I made the best hamburgers that I have ever tasted. And had the best drink I have had since coming to India called Kulukki Sarabath. Shout out to my Kerala brothers for that amazing drink! I'm totes making it for my friends and family when I get back.

Bear hunting and then cooking in India equals a lot of sweat. . . but it was worth it.

We sang songs from our cultures (Trust me, Their songs were actually wonderful). I took them on a bear hunt.

We all played games. 

We played football and volleyball! They were going to play cricket too,
but we were all too exhausted by the heat. I got sun-burned pretty bad too.

The entire day was another day I will never forget.

But, sadly, it is becoming harder and harder to write it all down and describe it all. In my heart I know I'm going to miss India. I'm going to miss the food. I'm going to miss these amazing students. I'm going to miss the loving and wonderful teachers. I'm going to miss the bus rides into Chennai. I'm going to miss a lot of things.

My time is coming to an end here. This season is almost over. I pray that God continues to astound me while I'm here. 

100,800 Minutes: A Visual Glimpse

Though there is much to write about, I don't know what to write this week. So instead of a normal blog, I'm posting my favorite pictures and memories from my time here in India. I took most of these with my phone, so the quality isn't that great, but these picture mean a lot to me.

There is no particular order or chronology, but I hope you enjoy this visual glimpse into my life in India!

On the way to the HIV hospital in Andhra Pradesh. 

The road of a poor, rural village in Andhra

Villagers managing their cows

I don't usually take selfies... but there were three of us on a motorcycle,
riding through a village underneath Indian mountains... I had to.

A month ago, I had the amazing opportunity to spend a day with 140 HIV positive children.
I'll never forget them.

One of the children made this for me. They had such joy in that place.

On the way to play games!

Back at LBC. This is the staircase to the water tower.

Can you spot the crazy, white guy? ;)

These are the houses of Chennai

Just a normal day in Chennai... A man, his son, and a plant.

A family waiting at the Chennai City Bus Station

The Mountains of Andhra

Making our way through the city

My favorite way to get around Chennai, Auto-Rickshaws!
These things are everywhere and they're hilarious.

Indian Independence Day!
We all went to a nearby amusement park and it was packed!

Me and Freddy, starting the day off at the Amusement Park

Waiting in line to ride...

Saroj, thinking of something important, I'm sure. ;)

It is technically not legal to have this many people on a motorcycle,
but it happens all of the time. I saw a family of five on one once.

Jesse, playing football in the rain!

Rex, one of the teachers, throwing the ball in the air.

Look at these puddles!

Renjith didn't want to play in the rain at first, but we convinced him. :)

Playing football in a lake is hard...

Benjith, serving as the faithful goalie

Rejith on the right, Jesse in the middle, and you know me.

Celebration on the lake/field/thing!

Heading out from LBC to do weekend ministry

Umbrellas are useful for more than just rain. It was HOT that day! 

On the road to our church, Christian Fellowship

Almost everyday after classes, we play volleyball. It's pretty great.

It gets serious

The water tower

I saw this man at the Ganges River in Varanasi. He seemed sad.

I thought this was pretty. I like pretty things. :)

Bishal and Sashi chopping up some pork for momos! 

We made momos for the whole college. We were working from 3:30-9:00pm.
It was a great day.

Momos are like dumplings... I think. They're Chinese anyway.

Stoking the fire for the momos

This thing is awesome. You make soup in the bottom
and the steam cooks the momos on top. Mmm... soup.

South Indian coffee is famous and delicious.