Washing feet...

"Five minutes, that's all, very close" I was assured that the hotel I was looking for was just walking distance down the road. I suppose I could just walk there then. If it's just down the road and it's on this side of the street. "Five minutes?" I asked. "Yes, very close", the front desk guy says.

I guess by now I should know that words like five and minutes are subjective terms, meaning they can change depending on the person you're talking to and the subjects being spoken of.

As I left the comfort of the air conditioned lobby, I nimbly dodged the construction work going on directly outside the hotel. It looks like a new sidewalk is being made, but not knowing anything about road work I guess it's necessary to remove most of the street as well.

Smells and sights and sounds, lots of sounds explode my senses, it's like the entire community is out today on this road at this exact time with a place to go and people to push out of the way. I didn't feel threatened or anything, the situation just takes your emotional world up a few notches. About thirty minutes into the walk I come to the conclusion that I've missed the place and turn around to head back. Then up in the distance I see the sign, I don't remember if he told me that you could only see it from the back, no, now that I think about it, he didn't. I guess he was honest when he said five minutes, but it seemed like a really long, hot, dusty, loud, smelly five minutes for sure.

It's amazing to me the contrasts that you can see here. Huge buildings rise up in front of you, people in shirts and ties running into them and then right next door, literally, directly next to the building you see children playing in the garbage piles, their parents sifting through looking for something valuable.

And yet here I am in the midst of it all, trying in vain to figure out some way to help, some way to begin to understand how to reach these people. I've been sent to serve. I've been sent to try and show people who Jesus is and how much he loves them. I've been sent to wash their feet and show them that I too am a person in need of Christ, no more or less important than them. Our lives and languages and citizenship may be different, but we're all the same the same price was paid for each of us. So I've been given a message and a command, to take this story to the children. Tell them there is a friend, a father, a future for each of them sitting near the King of all Kings. Being held by the Father who will never leave them and will always love them. This is the message I've been sent to give.

India is an incredible place, nothing can prepare you for coming here, and it will leave marks on your heart that will never go away.

As Fast As The Crow Flies

As fast as the crow flies, I thought to myself. Our train was leaving the station as I watched this big black bird glide alongside us. His life probably spent near the train station growing accustomed to the slow moving machines harboring his observer. Amazing I thought, he’ll never know anything more than this train station, although he can fly above the cities and look over them all; he’ll never see past his immediate surroundings or think past his next meal. He doesn’t know how big the world is or about all the other places and people living in it. He’ll never understand politics, work, traffic, school, marriage or governments. He doesn’t think about tomorrow or the problems it may hold. Oh to be a crow.

Wouldn’t it be great to live his life and be able to leave the worries and troubles of life and live for the day? To be able to forget about the fears, worries and doubts that plague this existence. Just for one day, one single day to be able to gaze down on the world and the cities without concerns or cares. What would that be like? Just to be a crow.

He’ll never understand my world; he’ll never understand my life or my experiences. Even if I tried telling him about all the things he’ll never know about, he’d just flap his wings and wonder why I wasn’t throwing him any bread.

Never knowing sadness, loneliness, emptiness, joy, happiness, excitement, or love. He’ll never know the experience of other cultures or eating food that you don’t like. He’ll never understand what it’s like to give a child a Book of Hope, to do a school assembly, give a testimony or perform a drama; he’ll never see lives changed. He’ll never hear God speak or see his work. To be a crow is to never have any purpose or any dreams for your life, no drive or ambition, no one to fight for or look forward to seeing or hearing from.

For those of us who’ve experienced these Book of Hope events in life, would you trade them? If someone said you could trade everything you have right now for the life of an average bird; would you give everything up for a life of simple existence? Would you want it?

Thank you God, that I’m not a crow. Thank you that you’ve created me with a purpose and a story to tell. Thank you that you’ve created a new heart in me and entrusted me to spread the message of your love and truth to hundreds of young people around the world. Thank you that I’m not a crow. Flying there looking across the tracks at some big machine moving as fast as I am; wondering about what that tall person is thinking while watching me… thinking about more important things like… lunch.