Beauty and Brokenness

A marriage of beauty and brokenness - that's my summation of what I saw and experienced in India.

The Brokenness:

The sleeping bodies of the homeless lying on the streets at night.
The stretchers filled with the dying struggling with disease and despair as they live out the rest of their days at Kaligat, Mother Teresa's home for the sick and dying.
The thousands of idols being worshiped in the place of the one true God.
The call to prayer blasting its reminder for all Muslims to gather in prayer to Allah.
The little boy whom I saw imitating his father in bowing before Krishna.
The street children - most of whom have some type of illness and will not have an education or a way to end the cycle of poverty in which they are trapped.
The beggars. Some ill, some handicapped, some mentally disabled, some the victims of terrible circumstances - all with no hope of a better future.
The thousands of people chaotically pushing and inching their way close enough to throw their offerings before Kali's image - a goddess who is not real, who cannot smell their incense, who cannot hear their prayers, and who cannot do anything to help them.
The craftsmen who worshiped the very idols that they were making.
The toddler whom I saw playing in his own urine on the side of the street with no one around to take care of him.
The animals sacrificed as atonement to gods who do not have the authority to accept the substitution or to provide a pardon.
The millions of lost people who inhabit that land.
The low respect for human life that pervades the culture.
The utter hopelessness implicitly and explicitly expressed because of the people's efforts to satisfy themselves with everything but God.
The spiritual bondage of the Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Jains, Buddhists, atheists, etc. who inhabit the country.
Knowing that almost every person whom I saw or passed on the street is headed to an eternity of separation from God unless something intervenes and changes their trajectory.

People often romanticize missions, but there is nothing romantic about Kolkata. It is much more of a tragedy. I'm not saying this because I had a bad experience there because that is not the case. It is because the city is so desperate, so dreary, and so lost. Millions of people are dying there without knowing Christ. The city is significantly contributing to Hell's population. And many have not even heard the truth. They do not even know. They spend their entire lives believing a lie.

The Beauty:

In order to observe and to appreciate the beauty, it is necessary to know and to experience the brokenness. It is akin to how one cannot truly experience the heights of joy unless having also known the depths of pain. In this case, it is necessary to have experienced the converse in order to appreciate the value of its opposite.

India is a marriage of both partners, of beauty and brokenness, and at the core, knowledge of these two spouses necessitates an abiding relationship with God.

The national believers who are burdened for their lost countrymen and who are striving to live out their calling and to be faithful witnesses for God.
The children at the Good Hope School. Not only are they receiving an education, but these are Hindu, Muslim, and street children who are hearing the Gospel. This place is one bright ray of hope in the city.
The Christians with whom we worked - their dedication and the love for God and for people that sustains them.
The seeds that were planted, the conversations that were had, the Bibles and tracks that were passed out, the prayers that were uttered on behalf of so many.
The beauty of the imago dei in each person. Whether they know Him or not, they are made in His image.
The religious freedom that legally exists in the country. India is not closed to the Gospel.
The sweet fellowship we shared with the national believers.
The beauty of God's creation - the bright colors of the fruits and vegetables lining the street markets, the beautiful flowers that poked out in random and unexpected places, the majestic snow-capped mountains of the Himalayas seen high above the clouds, the natural beauty of the rice fields and waterfalls and countryside that we passed.
The sisters and volunteers with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity - their sacrifice and their work among the "least of these."
The opportunities that God provided to share Christ with people.
The belief that the prayers for laborers to work this harvest will be answered, that Christian brothers and sisters will heed the call.
Knowing that God is sovereign over all. Nothing happens without His consent or knowledge. He loves these people, and He desires their redemption.
Knowing that one day when I am standing before the throne of God, I will be surrounded by a great host of believers from all nations and people groups - including Bengali and Indian brothers and sisters. I just pray that their number on that day will be reflective of the current Bengali and Indian population on the earth.

"After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, 'Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!'" (Revelation 7:9-10)