Out of the Ashes

I was visiting a new city in a new State. My cousin was visiting from the States and I took her to go on a camel safari ride in the desert of Rajasthan, India for a whopping $14.00 USD.  We were tourists on our “happy vacation”.  Happy for a time. But then the desperate eyes followed me as I wandered through the dark market streets. Waiting for me to exit a shop to offer her begging hand and starving child, she waiting patiently. No matter how long it took, this beggar woman would wait. She asked for money. I said no.  I don’t give money to beggars in the case they are employed by some big pimp and larger “operation”. I offered to buy food instead.  She knew this way of life better than I. She walked me to her friend’s local shop. He already knew her “order” and he told me what she wanted. Was this a scam? Was this a dream? I didn’t quite know how to respond.  She must get her dinner bit by bit, supplied by the hands of softened hearts. A little lentil dal here,

We returned home today, August 18th, to the vastly different country that I now call "home". The things I so easily become immune to while living here rage their ugly heads whenever I return. It’s a mini culture shock and re-initiation if you will. I watched from my hotel window as a woman outside bathed her child in brown water. They live in an uncompleted brick shack with holes and a plastic sheet roof that monsoon has mostly destroyed already. Besides the beauty in the color of the scraps of clothes they are wearing there is nothing beautiful to the sight. No running water, no comforts to enjoy- simply day to day survival. My heart broke as I watched her. I looked down to my own sleeping baby tucked away in a nice crib with clean sheets and clean clothes. Sin is a horrible thing! It’s mared the world God created and his original beauty designed. It’s brought sickness, poverty, and brokenness. My heart aches for this woman, and at the same time rejoices in the

Every Knee Will Bow And Every Tongue Will Confess Truly everywhere we look is need- physical, emotional, financial, and spiritual. I see the man with elephantitis lift his giant leg to shift his position as he sits on a mat begging for money on the side of the road. I see a woman sitting on a patch of grass on the edge of a busy highway practicing her meditation attempting to find her inner peace. I see a young girl on her way to school stop to touch the street cow and then touch her own forehead in hopes that her Hindu practices will reap the blessing from her god (cow). Simultaneously, I see a shop keeper allow the giant cow to mosey along his street front restaurant; he even offers the cow freshly made roti (bread) as to not offend his “god” passing by. I see another person practicing yoga with all the pristine positions and poses. Her breaths are well practiced, yet her face is stricken with the look of anxiety and distress.  I see a young man who was

Sacrifice. It’s a word we hear a lot in the Christian community, but I don’t think it’s something we always truly comprehend, especially in the western world.  Here in India people offer their best sacrifices to their gods in hope for a blessing. They give their last rupee in hopes for a healing miracle. They bring special fruits and sweet treats to their gods that they themselves can’t afford to eat, but they sacrifice to the gods that they might reap a reward, a blessing, a hope of tomorrow. I often cringe at the emptiness of Hindu’s unmet reward; it breeds hopelessness, doubt, and even death (spiritual and physical).  Sacrifice is not a sacrifice without giving something up. In a true sacrifice you will feel the effects of the giving. Thankfully with Christ Jesus when we sacrifice we will reap the reward He has in store for us.  Perhaps the reward is simply more death to self and more of Christ alive in us. Perhaps the reward is more than we can think or imagine, but thankfull

Have you ever experienced some random dog or cat that always seems to come and be at your door begging for food or attention? I can remember as a child my mom being angry at some alley cat for always coming to our door and urinating in her gardens. She used to yell and scream and try to scare the cat away, but nothing ever seemed to work. Here in Indi@ we have our share of street dogs and homeless cats but it’s usually the monkeys that I am trying to scare away from my door.  Here many people be-friend the wild animals, even the monkeys, feeding them and hoping to appease the “god” in them.  You can assume they keep coming back for more. Free hand-outs are always a welcomed thing. The past few weeks a young man, Pankaj, who used to be our neighbor has  also been seemingly always at the door. Unlike the animals he isn’t begging for food or attention, but he  is seemingly always at the door and wanting a place to belong. He returned to our city after being gone for a number o

*This was an old post from October 2018. I forgot to post then* The prison cell of a hospital room is one in which I have spent too much time this month, but it none the less has been a classroom to teach and open my eyes. From our little hospital window, I can gaze down to the army gardens below. In comparison with most of India,  the view I have is one of natural beauty, cleanliness, straight lines, and green beauty. Little groomed bushes pave a path through the gardens below for the privileged members to walk. The general public is not allowed in.  Everything looks pristine and as it “should be”. The funny thing is I rarely have seen anything in India look like this. It’s like I can gaze down at a little piece of heaven on earth and just imagine what India could or should be like apart from the pollution and trash that mares it’s beauty on a normal basis.  Oh how I want to leave this little prison cell of a hospital room and go walk in those gardens. It’s a torture of