The morning started pretty similar to the day before. A trip to a local church, this one again was
beyond excited to see us. I was blessed
with the chance to be a part of their lively worship service. At the end I was surprised to be called up by
the pastor to lead prayer for the entire church…. With no translator. I gave a good effort, knowing the only people
in the building that would know my words were the ones I walked in the building
with. It was unexpected, but not really
uncomfortable. Apparently, this
established me as the praying white guy, a bit more of a welcomed appeal factor
than that of the albino giant from the day before, but a bit harder to
understand. I’ve been a reasonably large
white dude for a while, but being the prayer guy was new.
Post service, we lined up as everyone in the building again
came by to greet us, sans selfies this time, but I had a few people ask me to
pray with them instead. Or for
them. I don’t really know, they didn’t
speak any English, and I did not have a translator. A few came over and gave the handshake and
then said something to me. I did my best
to communicate with them, but it never really sank in whatever they were
saying. Eventually, they just placed
their hands on my shoulder, closed their eyes, and leaned their head into
mine. That sign I picked up, and prayed
over them, again knowing they understood none of it.
It was obviously an awkward feeling. I mean, what good does it do for me to pray
for them when they can’t understand it?
Later on, I processed it and realized prayer isn’t about what they hear,
it’s about what God hears. Prayer is a
chance to intercede on the behalf of others, to lift them up to God. God hears it whether they know the words or
not. What’s more is that I may have a
completely different perspective on their lives that they would ever
conceive. I can lift up to God what they
might never think to themselves.
Of course, it was still awkward.
After church, we left for NAME REDACTED. It’s a city about 40 kilometers away from
Delhi, or, in my mind, it’s still just Delhi.
It’s really, really exhausting travelling here. Those 40 kilometers took three hours to
travel, there was maybe 3 miles of real highway driving on the entire journey,
apparently we went through several towns, but it felt like we stayed in
one.
After a second day of driving all over the place, I started
to notice more and more of the poverty around.
We had beggars coming up to the bus and tapping on the glass, I saw more
limping dogs, one had a severely bloodied face, and another dog was road kill
in the street. It really says a lot
about how numb I had already become by the surroundings that I didn’t start
bawling when I saw that. The filth was everywhere,
and the church we visited was in an area with open sewage drains. I caught that horrible smell I’d been warned
about for the first time. After three
hours of staring at it through the window non-stop, I was wiped. More than I was tired of seeing it, I was
tired of not helping.
We arrived at our hotel and had a wonderful lunch. At this point, I need to talk about the food
a little bit.
I was highly apprehensive about Indian food prior to the
trip. I’m generally a decently picky
eater. I don’t necessarily have a warm
embrace to spicy food, and I’m openly saucophobic. I do not like to try new sauces. You never really know what will be in it, if
it will ruin whatever you drizzle it over, or if there is a lurking tomato
somewhere just waiting to ruin your day.
My worries were for naught.
Guys, I don’t want to go back to American food. This stuff is so good. Literally everything I’ve consumed here is
food I’m not excited to eat back at home.
New sauces? Within
four days I’ve grown to be excited about them, as opposed to apprehensive.
Bread? Yes please.
It’s the perfect thing to drown in that wonderful new sauce.
Chicken? Easily the
bottom of the meat food pyramid for me.
Now I’m wondering why people even bother eating meat without feathers.
Rice? You mean that
bland stuff that is used to just fill up plates because it’s filling? Well, okay, the rice is the same, but the
sauce makes it better.
Coke? I mean the Coke
is great at home too, but here it’s almost never cold, AND IT’S STILL
GOOD! Room temperature Coke is usually
the taste bud equivalent of treason. You
want it, you trust it, then it stabs you in the back with its depravity. Lukewarm Coke is so bad, it might as well be
Pepsi. It’s worth noting that maybe it’s
fine here because it’s so hot that it’s not that warm by comparison, but still,
it’s great!
Tea? Look, when I’m
at home, I just don’t drink the stuff.
It’s bland and I don’t enjoy it at all, I don’t think I even drink it on
an annual basis, it’s merely one step above coffee on the overrated beverage
staircase. Here, I was actually a little
offended when someone just brought me tea without me asking for it. It’s considered very rude here to turn down
offered food or drink, so now I have to drink this junk. I felt that way until I took one sip. I want their tea with every meal for the rest
of my life.
Seriously, ‘Merica, it’s time to step up your food game.
After lunch, we met with some local pastors, and talked
about their church growth and ministry efforts.
It was a decently short meeting as we didn’t have a good place to fit
our whole group into. A large number of
our group were getting antsy to go out and just be with the people of India,
not on a bus, not in a church, and not at a restaurant, but on the street with
the people who needed to hear about Christ.
There were also a malignant of peeps tired who just wanted to nap. It was eventually decided to let the boring
people win out.
The reasons for that are decent though. As it turns out, the following day is India’s
Independence Day, celebrated for the freedom from British rule. As it also turns out, REDACTED NAME was a
focal point in the rebellion against the British in Northern India. Apparently, it’s not uncommon for national
patriotism to run high at this time, and for all white people to be oppressive
Brits, so a cluster of 14 whiteys roaming the streets on “we got the whites
out” eve was a really bad idea. We
stayed in and would have to wait for another day to launch our secret plans to
reestablish British rule.
Oh and by the way India, we’re Americans, we kicked the
Brits out before kicking Brits out was cool.
Other random observations from the day:
- Justin Bieber was on a large sign advertising unisex haircuts.
- I caught my first glimpse of broken English in the form of a t-shirt saying “today I will being human.”
- There are fruit stands everywhere, but the only farms I’ve seen grow corn and rice. I think fruit grows from power lines here.
- Coca-Cola is a staple of an Indian dinner, and only Coca-Cola. They appear to hate Pepsi as much as I do.
- I saw a water park named “Drizzling World.” There was, of course, a giant T-Rex under the sign to let you know it was a water park.
- They have a wonderful soft drink called Limca, that is apparently just dirty dishwater with a hint of lime.
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