The Stories of India

Yesterday I prayed with and counseled 19 different people. It was a pretty overwhelming day. To be honest, I wasn't all that "into it" from the beginning. I was starting to get tired and looking forward to being home. Another day of medical camp wasn't really what I was excited about. And I didn't really feel like I could emotionally engage with prayer and counseling all day.

But it turned out to be my longest day yet.

I never did actually get really "into it." But somehow God still did incredible things. It's actually amazing to me the indifference with which I could observe God doing powerful things in people's lives. It just made it abundantly clear to me that it wasn't anything I was contributing to the situation. I hardly wanted to be there. But God was at work.

There are too many stories to share all of them, but these stories are actually one of the best parts of the trip to me. Being able to hear about people's lives - their families, their jobs, their challenges, their joys. After a day like this, I feel like I've been in India. Real India.

Ch was a kind old woman. She told me that all of her five sons were married and then listed off how many children each one of them had. When I counted it at 19 grandchildren, she was shocked. "I didn't realize I had 19 grandchildren." She complained of body pain, eye pain, hip pain, and was a widow for 16 years after her husband died during an eye operation. When I asked her what I could pray for, she said she doesn't have any big problems, only small ones and to pray for family peace.

At one point, Krista joined me to pray with a few people and Cg told us a powerfully dramatic story. Her brother had been in an accident 3 years ago which left him paralyzed from the chest down. We found out later that he had actually spent some time at the OM Good Shepherd Hospital in Dharmapuri where we were holding our clinic. Her family was unable to pay for the continuing care of her brother and didn't know what to do. Her father said that unless the brother was healed, they should all "drink something together and die." On top of that, Cg's husband left her because she was unable to pay the additional dowry that he demanded. We prayed with Cg through her tears, asking God to provide for her. She told us that she had stopped worshipping all her other Gods and only prayed to Jesus because she thought He could heal her brother. After asking the OM staff to follow up with her, Thangaraj said he might be able to get her a job in their tailoring school once he gets it started. Krista and I were thrilled to hear about that.

When I asked Kn if he knew about Jesus, he answered, "I worship my own gods, but tell me about yours and I'll worship them too." After telling him the story of a world broken by sin but redeemed by the sacrifice of Jesus, he was interested and wanted a Bible that he could read to find out more and "give him peace in his heart." He was at the clinic because the police had beaten him ten years earlier which caused ongoing body pain. He is unable to work so he stays home to take care of their cows while his wife works to support their family.

V was the only person that has ever refused prayer from me. She told me that her gods would be angry with her and hurt her if I prayed to my god on her behalf. She was a strong woman, with independence in her eyes that I haven't seen in many Indian woman. I respected her wishes and wished her well.

M was adamant that I attend his son's wedding. M was a Hindu, but had arranged for his son to marry his sister's daughter. I guess marrying your cousin is OK in the villages of India. Since her family was a Christian, he said he would go to church too if the wedding went off smoothly. His Hindu relatives were trying to stop it since the girl was a Christian. M asked for prayer for the house that he had started to build before he ran out of finances and for family conflict with his wife and children.

Rk might have been the happiest woman I saw. She was probably in her seventies and simply bubbled with warmth. Her husband had died some time ago, but her three children were taking good care of her. Each one of them provided her one meal a day. One of her grandchildren actually worked at the OM hospital and she came to the church that met there whenever she could. She kept holding my hands in hers and was so happy to be prayed for. I counted it a privilege to meet her.

These are just some of the stories. Each one was unique. Each person with their own requests. My routine was usually to ask each person about their spouse, their children, their grandchildren, and their jobs. I would write it all down in my journal. To be honest, I'm not quite disciplined enough to return to my journal and pray for them regularly. But it felt respectful and honoring to record some details of every person I spoke with. To write down that this person had three children while the last had five. To remember their individuality and the uniqueness of their lives.

So on this day when I didn't really feel "into it", God was still doing something. I can see how He moved in the lives of the people that I spoke with and prayed for. And despite my indifference, I can see how He moved in my heart as well. It's a good thing, His work doesn't depend on my mood.