Out of the Ashes

                                                                                              (Just a few glimpses from the roads of India) A few weeks ago I was running on my normal walking path close to my house.   I was about 15 minutes from my home, and just past the local hospital and shops when I rounded a corner and could hear the low deep growl of an animal that I immediately could detect was not a street dog. The depth of the growl was so intense it brought immediate tension to my body, and I began searching the bushes and hedge line for what I was hearing. Only moments before my pr*yer walk was interrupted with me repeating the words “begera, begera, begera”.   I remember questioning to myself what those words meant and why all the sudden they were coming to mind.   I knew I had learned them, but couldn’t remember what they meant.   As my eyes fixed on the animal the noise was coming from, I immediately remembered what the word meant. LEOPARD.   It’s rare t

                                                                             The village we visit regularly to tell stories. This week the reality of spiritual curses on this land has become such a reality.  In my opinion, the frequent occurrence of certain events is too odd and timed to not be a curse. This week as I traveled the windy roads to a nearby village about an hour away, my friends and I noticed a spot where a car had clearly fallen off the edge of the mountain.  The tiny, one-way roads, curvy blind corners, crazy traffic, and lack of guardrails often lead to accidents and the unfortunate event of cars falling off the steep mountain cliffs. Our taxi pulled over to stop and ask questions about the accident; when did this happen, were all involved killed, etc. Indians are notoriously nosey for wanting all the latest gossip and details, although in reality it makes very little difference. We didn’t know the family involved in this accident, and there was nothing we c

This weekend I drove past fields filled with hundreds and hundreds of men trying out for the army.   Literally masses filled the streets and corners of every turn for miles as young men came out for the recruitment days. I thought of the way the Father calls us to join His army and how He equips us even as weak youngsters for the war He calls us to. Nothing could have ever prepared me for India.   I often say that as I try to prep people who have come with me to visit India.   Sometimes the only way to learn is by jumping in. I believe that while the Father prepares us and trains our hands for war, and our feet to stand in high places, He also calls us to trust, and free fall into His arms with complete surrender.   He calls us to give our whole lives, even the future and the unknowns.   He calls us to live in such a way that even when we can’t see the next step, we trust and walk out on the water. As my time in India approaches the end of my first year,

(A Hin*u holy man, or sadhu, smokes marijuana in a chillum on the premises of a Temple. Hin*u holy men from Nepal and India come to this temple to take part in the Maha Shivaratri festival annually for holiday when it is legal to smoke the otherwise illegal drug. Celebrated by Hin*u devotees all over the world, Shivaratri is dedicated to L*rd $hiva, and holy men mark the occasion by praying, smoking marijuana or smearing their bodies with ashes. Photo Credit: Anonymous) This week we have fully entered into the Hind*u festival season.  It seems as though there is constantly a festival or holiday.  And with 330 million g*ds, of course there are not enough days in a year to celebrate them all.  As I type, the drums are pounding again, and the music is blaring just outside my door.  The valley and mountain around my house creates a lovely echo and bass for the sound waves.  Tonight, I am thanking G*d for a sound machine app on my iPhone.  We just finished what is known as Shraddh wh