So I went to church with Henry and let me say it was quite an amazing experience. The church was at his aunt’s house and it consisted of his entire extended family, and a few neighbors and family friends. Rewind a bit to the fact that I'm currently doing a bible study of Acts and was reading Acts chapter2 just yesterday, and in Acts 2:42-47 it talks about the fellowship that the first believers had…it was that of a family. So to be a part of a church that was basically a family was really neat to see…it took me back to the Acts 2:42 church. They welcomed me in as one of their own and even invited me to stay the night because it was raining and they didn’t want me to have to get my feet wet….plus I think they wanted to get to know me more before I left. So not only was it really cool to see such amazing fellowship and be involved and catch a glimpse of what the author was talking about when he wrote about the Acts church’s fellowship but the coolest part was the service itself.
Henry’s family is from Tamil-Nadu (which is another state in India) *side note***There are 10 official languages of India—one for each state+Hindi&English Can you imagine if America had 50 different languages, one for each state? Not only that, but they all have different alphabets and everything!!!**** And so during the worship we would sing the song once through in English and then repeat the song in Tamil. When everyone else was singing in Tamil I would quietly sing it in English and that alone was AMAZING. It really opened my eyes to how BIG God really is! The fact that He completely understands my English as well as their Tamil blew me away. God is not limited by language. It’s a profound thought isn’t it? We often times resign ourselves to think that God predominately thinks and talks in English and listens to our English worship, but when you’re in a room full of people singing worship in another language while you sing the English version; well let me just say it really can change your view of things. While English is the most widely spoken language in the world we should not become so haughty as to think that God prefers our English worship or only speaks/thinks in English.
One thing that this trip has taught me is that we often times try to culturally contain God. I do it, you do it, my Christian Indian friends do it, it’s programmed into us because we are human therefore simple-minded. But here’s a radical thought: what if we could break our culture boundaries and stop trying to fit God in a box that suites us. What if we could open our minds, hearts, and become aware of what we are doing? What would that look like? The fact that in India a lot of people consider it a sin to date, while in America a lot of people consider it a sin to cuss….why is this? Why is it a sin to do something in one place, but not another? These are questions that I’ve struggled with and still have not been able to wrap my mind around.
These thoughts just excite me for heaven one day—when we will be able to break all culture boundaries, all language barriers, and all other obstacles that keep us from properly accepting one another and worshipping our creator as He should be. When we can finally overcome our ignorance as humans and when we are able to see with new eyes and fully comprehend God. Through this trip I’ve come to learn just how naive I really am….how much more there is in this world and how much I try to contain God. I've been able to see just a little more how big and powerful God really is. But I have to say I can’t wait until I can fully see that…I know as long as I am human I will never fully know God for who He really is. One day though….one day.
Monday, April 20, 2009
thoughts on the parallels of rain and hardtimes
Yesterday was the first downpour that I’ve experienced in over 3 months. Let me first of all just say it was beautiful, refreshing, and cleansing. The dirt that is constantly in the air finally settled down and taking in a lung-full of pure oxygen is something I don’t think I have done since I have been here. I walked along in the rain not caring about the mud caking my shoes, or the fact that the rain was seeping through my clothes, or that my hair was drenched and clinging to my face. No, all I could do was think about how amazing God’s creation is. Isn’t it cool to worship a God so genius as to think to have pure, cooling water fall from the sky? A God so creative to allow humans to hear the patter of the rain against the ground, experience the faint smell of freshness and the sight…don’t get me started on the sight of rain. It’s like some orchestrated dance of water. Every rain drop falling divinely in place where God has ordained it. I'm glad that man cannot recreate any of these sensations. Creation is something that is purely of God and given to us as a gift to appreciate. I forgot how much I love the rain until yesterday. I was too busy soaking up the sun and the heat and forgot how incredible and necessary the rain is for life. I was given a whole new appreciation for rain yesterday. It reminded me of the good and bad of life. We all too often get caught up in the good of life, basking in the sun of blessings, but forget that the rain is necessary for growth and renewal. We hate getting caught in the rain, but how different would our life be if we appreciated the hard times just as much (if not more) than the easy times. If we realized how good they are for our growth and spirituality? As I look back on my life I can honestly say that the times that I have grown the most spiritually are the times that have been the hardest. The times that have made my heart break, or made me angry or frustrated have also made me a much stronger person. As much as they were tough, I have to say I would go through them again to grow closer to God, and mature as a young woman. I hate that I'm saying this because right now I'm basking in the sun of blessings, and know that this is me admitting to God that He can take me through some more tough times to grow me (which I don’t look forward to.)
Hard times are like a breath of fresh air….God uses them to clear the air of all the dust of comfort that has settled in our lives so we can once again take a lung-full of fresh air and be revitalized. So as I sit here waiting for the monsoon season of India, and that of my own life I pray that in hard times and rain that I may cling to God and grow spiritually. I also pray that if you’re going through a hard time that you may realize that as much as it hurts, or is not fun, it is in the end, going to make you a better person if you allow it to.
Romans 8:18 & 8:28
“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us”
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
And for those of you currently going through hard times:
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”
Psalms 34:18
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit”
I love and miss you all like crazy! Less than a month until I come home!
with love, rebecca ann
Friday, April 17, 2009
becoming a motorcycle expert and the annoying voice that says "please enjoy the music while you wait for a sales associate.".....
Stefan contacted me and asked if I would do a voiceover for a company called Tata for $60....it was pretty fun, but kinda tough because I had to pronounce everything a little differently. I can now say that Im that annoying voice that says "Please enjoy the music as you wait for the next availble sales assciate" and "Thank you for calling Telesky shopping, all lines are currently unavailble, please call back." and "Thank you for Calling Telesky shopping, our hours are monday through thursday 9am to 4pm, please visit us on the web at www.teleskyshopping.com, Thank you." yep, Im now that annoying voice! The above pic is of me in the studio recording.
Yep, thats right! I learned how to drive a motorcycle! Honestly it was extremly easy learning all the gears and such. I promise I was safe! I got up to 3rd gear, and even rode with a passanger! I have yet to make a sharp turn though because it freaks me out a little bit....but practice makes perfect, so hopefully by the time I come home I can get one of my own! (PUHHHLLEEZZZ MOM!!!)
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Learning lessons from the least of these: constructions workers' children
playing with Legos.JPG)
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This boy is the primary care-taker for this baby
So beautiful
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This is the home of one of the construction workers' family--as many as 7 people live in this one space!
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Luke 18:16-17 “…Jesus called the children to Him and said “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
I always understood why Jesus loved the children, but I’ve been reminded of this time and again here in India in my experiences with the children here. My loves at the orphanage who called me ‘Rebecakka’, the babies at church that climb into my lap because they are fascinated by my blue eyes and fair skin, and the construction workers’ children who proudly take me by the hand to show me their home.
If only we could forget all our adult concerns; the recession, marital problems, being popular, our youthful appearances, that new car, losing weight, being ‘successful’*, etc. etc. and resort back to our childlike state where everything we see is with rose-tinted glasses. Where we don’t see status, or wealth, or beauty, but we see people for who they are: playmates, friends, and those to be loved, and to love us. If only we could revert to seeing the world as a playground, an adventure, something wonderful to be explored and appreciated. If only we could return to that state of childhood innocence once again. This childlike innocence would allow us to fully love others, and fully love God without inhibitions. Without concern for what others might think of us, or for our financial status, it would give us contentment. I understand why Jesus said that we had to be like children to enter the kingdom of heaven. We have to be innocent, but also full of joy and love, and content in every situation. We have to rid ourselves of our financial concerns, our materialism, and wanting to be accepted by this world to fully devote ourselves to Jesus.
So my challenge to both myself and you (if you are willing) is to try and live as a child today. To rid your mind of all adult concerns and worries and just take the day to explore LIFE! To see the sunrise and wonder where the sun goes while we sleep, to be filled with awe as the wind blows some dead leaves across the landscape, and not to be afraid to get wet in the rain but rejoice at how the cool wetness feels against your skin. Not to wear makeup, or care how you’re dressed, or feel guilty about eating that chocolate bar, or even worry about what’s for dinner(go out and have a Happy Meal if you so desire!) But most importantly explore the world, and love others innocently, and love God without inhibitions today. Tap into that childlike innocence for the day and just play, explore, and learn!
With all my love,
Rebecca Ann
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This boy is the primary care-taker for this baby
So beautiful
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This is the home of one of the construction workers' family--as many as 7 people live in this one space!
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So Augusta Paul, our religions/culture teacher has started a small NGO at her house for construction workers’ children. She takes in about 30 children every day (except Sundays) for 3 hours and teaches them to draw and color, and just generally gives them a safe environment to play with Lego’s and balls and skipping ropes. None of the children speak English (English is not the first language here in India, children only learn English if they have an education.) and Augusta doesn’t speak Tamil (which is the language of Tamil-Nadu a neighboring state of Karnataka-where Bangalore is.) Most of these construction workers have migrated to Bangalore to find work and find themselves without a familiar language and an extremely low paying job; but a job nonetheless. Of the 30 children, only 3 are receiving an education (a lot of them are still too young though.) Most of the children didn’t even know how to properly hold a writing utensil and so Augusta’s NGO has been working on that among other things such as polite behavior and sharing.
Andrew and I have been going over to Augusta’s to work with these children a few times a week and this experience has definitely got me thinking about how much I truly take my education for granted! There are many signs around Bangalore that are written in Kanada (Karnataka’s language), and it all just looks like squiggles to me. It can be frustrating because I have no idea where I am at times because I cannot read, and even worse because I cannot communicate properly with my auto driver. This is just a small glimpse of how these uneducated children will live the rest of their lives! To not be able to understand any written form of language and only speak a language of another state….if all written things looked like foreign squiggles to me….well the thought alone scares me. Education is a right of being an American citizen; as children we consider it a mandatory and necessary evil and complain about going to school. As children we fake sickness to get out of school, but if I could go back and do it all over again I would never complain about school again. I would wake up every morning and thank God that I got to learn to read and write, and learn history, and math (ugh still not fond of math, but I understand it’s importance). I would never again take for granted what God has allowed me to blessed with as being an American citizen.
Now let me explain a little bit about construction workers in India. They are one of the lowest of the low on the totem pole. When the caste system was the predominate way of running things in India the Dalits (the lowest caste) were the manual labor. They were the ones to do all the construction, all the farming, and the ones who moved the carcasses of deceased humans and animals. They were the brute of the population; the ones who worked the hardest physically, and the ones who were the least respected. Today the caste system is ‘abolished’ (I still have observed some undertones of discrimination) but manual labor still remains a low profession—a job for the uneducated, and poor class. It’s so amazing to watch construction workers—men and women alike hauling large baskets of bricks on their heads from point A to point B. It seems completely inefficient because modern technology has created machines to complete these simple tasks much quicker, but I’ve been told that the cost of labor is so cheap that many contractors choose to hire several people to haul bricks, than to employ the use of a bulldozer. The women on construction sites simply amaze me; watching them I realize just how strong God has made woman….these women are wearing Saris (which has got to be the hottest and most suppressing attire ever!) in the middle of the noon Indian sun, with a baby slung on their back, hauling what has got to be at least 50-100lbs of bricks on her head; then repeating this cycle over and over, day after day. Their children are then left unattended for hours at a time to roam, beg, or play in unsafe areas. The older children are given the task of watching and caring for the younger, and at Augusta’s house there were about 5 children that were 7 and 8 years of age all responsible for about 5 or 6 very young other children. It made me sad to see how fast the older children were forced to grow up. A 7 year old boy carrying a baby instead of playing ‘power rangers’ or making mud-pies, or the 8 year old little girl cradling a newborn instead of playing with a baby doll. It’s a sad day when you see children that have had their childhood stolen from them just because of the circumstances of their own birth. One of the many injustices that I have witnessed here in India.
Anyways some of the children took us to their house which was a one-roomed shack situated on the construction site and allowed me to take some video footage (which I cannot wait to incorporate in my documentary!) It was just as bad as the slums had been except for the fact of the over-crowdedness, but honestly after thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that it would be worse to live as a construction worker because they have no community…no sense of stability. We were told that in one of the houses as many as 7 people lived there. It blew me away! There was no furniture, and only a collection of pots and pans to cook in. A small fire burned outside the shack for warm bath water and another for cooking some simple rice. On the other side of the house a curtain hid away what I'm assuming was a hole dug in the ground for bathroom waste. One of the houses only had a curtain as a door, while the others had a wood plank. I will say one thing; I will never again take for granted my house in America. What amazed me was that these children fought over who got to show their houses to us…they were proud of their homes and happy to show them off. The innocence of children will never cease to bring a smile to my face and warm my heart. Like a breath of fresh air in a corrupt and evil and broken world, children will forever remain my hearts’ reminder that there is good in this world.
Andrew and I have been going over to Augusta’s to work with these children a few times a week and this experience has definitely got me thinking about how much I truly take my education for granted! There are many signs around Bangalore that are written in Kanada (Karnataka’s language), and it all just looks like squiggles to me. It can be frustrating because I have no idea where I am at times because I cannot read, and even worse because I cannot communicate properly with my auto driver. This is just a small glimpse of how these uneducated children will live the rest of their lives! To not be able to understand any written form of language and only speak a language of another state….if all written things looked like foreign squiggles to me….well the thought alone scares me. Education is a right of being an American citizen; as children we consider it a mandatory and necessary evil and complain about going to school. As children we fake sickness to get out of school, but if I could go back and do it all over again I would never complain about school again. I would wake up every morning and thank God that I got to learn to read and write, and learn history, and math (ugh still not fond of math, but I understand it’s importance). I would never again take for granted what God has allowed me to blessed with as being an American citizen.
Now let me explain a little bit about construction workers in India. They are one of the lowest of the low on the totem pole. When the caste system was the predominate way of running things in India the Dalits (the lowest caste) were the manual labor. They were the ones to do all the construction, all the farming, and the ones who moved the carcasses of deceased humans and animals. They were the brute of the population; the ones who worked the hardest physically, and the ones who were the least respected. Today the caste system is ‘abolished’ (I still have observed some undertones of discrimination) but manual labor still remains a low profession—a job for the uneducated, and poor class. It’s so amazing to watch construction workers—men and women alike hauling large baskets of bricks on their heads from point A to point B. It seems completely inefficient because modern technology has created machines to complete these simple tasks much quicker, but I’ve been told that the cost of labor is so cheap that many contractors choose to hire several people to haul bricks, than to employ the use of a bulldozer. The women on construction sites simply amaze me; watching them I realize just how strong God has made woman….these women are wearing Saris (which has got to be the hottest and most suppressing attire ever!) in the middle of the noon Indian sun, with a baby slung on their back, hauling what has got to be at least 50-100lbs of bricks on her head; then repeating this cycle over and over, day after day. Their children are then left unattended for hours at a time to roam, beg, or play in unsafe areas. The older children are given the task of watching and caring for the younger, and at Augusta’s house there were about 5 children that were 7 and 8 years of age all responsible for about 5 or 6 very young other children. It made me sad to see how fast the older children were forced to grow up. A 7 year old boy carrying a baby instead of playing ‘power rangers’ or making mud-pies, or the 8 year old little girl cradling a newborn instead of playing with a baby doll. It’s a sad day when you see children that have had their childhood stolen from them just because of the circumstances of their own birth. One of the many injustices that I have witnessed here in India.
Anyways some of the children took us to their house which was a one-roomed shack situated on the construction site and allowed me to take some video footage (which I cannot wait to incorporate in my documentary!) It was just as bad as the slums had been except for the fact of the over-crowdedness, but honestly after thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that it would be worse to live as a construction worker because they have no community…no sense of stability. We were told that in one of the houses as many as 7 people lived there. It blew me away! There was no furniture, and only a collection of pots and pans to cook in. A small fire burned outside the shack for warm bath water and another for cooking some simple rice. On the other side of the house a curtain hid away what I'm assuming was a hole dug in the ground for bathroom waste. One of the houses only had a curtain as a door, while the others had a wood plank. I will say one thing; I will never again take for granted my house in America. What amazed me was that these children fought over who got to show their houses to us…they were proud of their homes and happy to show them off. The innocence of children will never cease to bring a smile to my face and warm my heart. Like a breath of fresh air in a corrupt and evil and broken world, children will forever remain my hearts’ reminder that there is good in this world.
Luke 18:16-17 “…Jesus called the children to Him and said “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
I always understood why Jesus loved the children, but I’ve been reminded of this time and again here in India in my experiences with the children here. My loves at the orphanage who called me ‘Rebecakka’, the babies at church that climb into my lap because they are fascinated by my blue eyes and fair skin, and the construction workers’ children who proudly take me by the hand to show me their home.
If only we could forget all our adult concerns; the recession, marital problems, being popular, our youthful appearances, that new car, losing weight, being ‘successful’*, etc. etc. and resort back to our childlike state where everything we see is with rose-tinted glasses. Where we don’t see status, or wealth, or beauty, but we see people for who they are: playmates, friends, and those to be loved, and to love us. If only we could revert to seeing the world as a playground, an adventure, something wonderful to be explored and appreciated. If only we could return to that state of childhood innocence once again. This childlike innocence would allow us to fully love others, and fully love God without inhibitions. Without concern for what others might think of us, or for our financial status, it would give us contentment. I understand why Jesus said that we had to be like children to enter the kingdom of heaven. We have to be innocent, but also full of joy and love, and content in every situation. We have to rid ourselves of our financial concerns, our materialism, and wanting to be accepted by this world to fully devote ourselves to Jesus.
So my challenge to both myself and you (if you are willing) is to try and live as a child today. To rid your mind of all adult concerns and worries and just take the day to explore LIFE! To see the sunrise and wonder where the sun goes while we sleep, to be filled with awe as the wind blows some dead leaves across the landscape, and not to be afraid to get wet in the rain but rejoice at how the cool wetness feels against your skin. Not to wear makeup, or care how you’re dressed, or feel guilty about eating that chocolate bar, or even worry about what’s for dinner(go out and have a Happy Meal if you so desire!) But most importantly explore the world, and love others innocently, and love God without inhibitions today. Tap into that childlike innocence for the day and just play, explore, and learn!
With all my love,
Rebecca Ann
Monday, April 13, 2009
A night with Florence's family
Two weeks ago Florence contacted me (she’s a girl that I worked with at the school—she was not from the orphanage, but actually a student of the school.) Therefore her family was a general middle class Christian family. And she invited me to dinner with her family. I accepted the offer, and every day since she called me to make sure that I was still coming. Every phone call lasted at least 20 minutes as each member of the family passed the phone to talk to me and relay their excitement of my visit.
The day finally came when I went; she came to Frazertown to pick me up (a little 13 year old girl traveling around Bangalore by herself!) I had my first experience on an Indian public bus! Let’s just say that was quite interesting! The bus was so full of people that there were about 6 people hanging off the bus! (3 people at each door of the bus holding onto the side of the bus!) It was one of those times that I'm extremely glad that I'm a girl and therefore given the right to actually be squeezed on the inside. Florence paid my bus fare against my protests and we boarded 3 different busses until we finally reached our destination. We walked about a mile to her house in which I was warmly welcomed by her mom. I was told by Florence during our journey that her entire family had spent days preparing for my visit and cleaned the house, shopped for food, and that I had been the topic of conversation for days.
Her mom hugged and kissed me on the cheek when I stepped in, as did her grandmother. Her elder brothers cracked jokes and asked me all about America. I was surprised to find that a small picture I had given Florence a month ago was lovingly placed in their family photo album! Her mom made me an AMAZING mutton curry, rice, omelet, and naan. The funny thing was that her family didn’t eat until 9:30p and they wanted to send me back before too late, so the entire meal had been prepared just for me. I sat slightly awkward as I ate while the entire family watched my every bite. It was a HUGE meal and I knew if I didn’t finish it her mom would question whether it was good enough, so I stuffed myself to the gills, much to her mothers’ approval. I gave Florence a small bracelet as a show of my appreciation and when she showed her mom, her mom scrambled into her room and found a pair of earrings of her own to give me. She apologized that they weren’t brand new and said that the next time I visited she would surely have an appropriate gift for me. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but as usual I was rebuked for even protesting. After dinner, Florence and I walked around so she could introduce me to all of her neighbors and friends. Around 8:30 her dad arrived home and also warmly accepted me. He was much more reserved than her mom, but very kind nonetheless. Her mom then gave me money to get an Auto back and again I protested but with no use. Before I left the entire family gathered to pray over me, asking for blessings in my life, and thanking God for bringing me into their home-I certainly felt like a revered guest! After, they sent her older brother to accompany me home for safety reasons, and I discovered that her mom had given me 3 times the amount needed for the Auto….I tried to give this to the brother but he refused to accept it.
And once again I'm left to say that Indian hospitality is incomparable!
The day finally came when I went; she came to Frazertown to pick me up (a little 13 year old girl traveling around Bangalore by herself!) I had my first experience on an Indian public bus! Let’s just say that was quite interesting! The bus was so full of people that there were about 6 people hanging off the bus! (3 people at each door of the bus holding onto the side of the bus!) It was one of those times that I'm extremely glad that I'm a girl and therefore given the right to actually be squeezed on the inside. Florence paid my bus fare against my protests and we boarded 3 different busses until we finally reached our destination. We walked about a mile to her house in which I was warmly welcomed by her mom. I was told by Florence during our journey that her entire family had spent days preparing for my visit and cleaned the house, shopped for food, and that I had been the topic of conversation for days.
Her mom hugged and kissed me on the cheek when I stepped in, as did her grandmother. Her elder brothers cracked jokes and asked me all about America. I was surprised to find that a small picture I had given Florence a month ago was lovingly placed in their family photo album! Her mom made me an AMAZING mutton curry, rice, omelet, and naan. The funny thing was that her family didn’t eat until 9:30p and they wanted to send me back before too late, so the entire meal had been prepared just for me. I sat slightly awkward as I ate while the entire family watched my every bite. It was a HUGE meal and I knew if I didn’t finish it her mom would question whether it was good enough, so I stuffed myself to the gills, much to her mothers’ approval. I gave Florence a small bracelet as a show of my appreciation and when she showed her mom, her mom scrambled into her room and found a pair of earrings of her own to give me. She apologized that they weren’t brand new and said that the next time I visited she would surely have an appropriate gift for me. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but as usual I was rebuked for even protesting. After dinner, Florence and I walked around so she could introduce me to all of her neighbors and friends. Around 8:30 her dad arrived home and also warmly accepted me. He was much more reserved than her mom, but very kind nonetheless. Her mom then gave me money to get an Auto back and again I protested but with no use. Before I left the entire family gathered to pray over me, asking for blessings in my life, and thanking God for bringing me into their home-I certainly felt like a revered guest! After, they sent her older brother to accompany me home for safety reasons, and I discovered that her mom had given me 3 times the amount needed for the Auto….I tried to give this to the brother but he refused to accept it.
And once again I'm left to say that Indian hospitality is incomparable!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
India has changed how I read the bible...
Acts 3:1-10.
This passage reminds me so much of India. I have now witnessed what a beggar on the steps of a temple (or church) looks like. It’s simply amazing that Peter and John gave him more than money. In a sense they gave him life. He could now find work, provide for a wife, support a family, and WALK! I'm not a man, but I’ve heard as a man just how good it feels to be able to provide for a family. To have that piece of satisfaction given must have felt amazing. Not to mention being given the chance at giving a receiving love in a martial union! “Silver or gold I do not have but what I do have I give you.” I am not rich, but I have can give my time, energy, love, passion and joy to others. God doesn’t call all of us to just give monetarily. No He calls us to give what He has blessed us with; for some that is money, for others (like me) that is love and energy.
This story has taken on an entirely new meaning for me after being her in India and seeing what a crippled beggar looks like. After seeing the despair in their eyes, and their shriveled feet I have now found a new appreciation for what Peter and John did for this man. A lifetime of sitting day in and day out watching everyone else walk, feeling all sorts of resentment towards them for taking their ability to walk for granted….then being blessed with the opportunity to walk. You know how it feels to sit for a long time in a car and how good it feels to get out and stretch your legs? Multiply that by a lifetime of sitting, and imagine how amazing the feeling of stretching your legs would be! The passage continues to say that the man accompanied Peter and John into the temple; something he had probably never done! I imagine he jumped, danced, skipped, ran, walked, and just used the entire next week to discover all that his legs could do. This passage has taken on an entire new meaning for me now that I can picture vividly the beggar.
Being here in India has opened up my eyes just a little bit to how it must have been in biblical times. A lot of times America is too ‘modern’ to allow our imaginations to fully comprehend all these stories. But being in a less modernized country nudges the imagination thus opening up all new possibilities to all the bible stories. To finally understand just how dirty the disciples’ feet must have been after walking along the dusty roads and know how self-conscious they must’ve felt having their master and Lord wash their feet, or picture the disciples as fishermen in a small wooden boat (like those in Goa), or to even understand how much it must have truly meant for a crippled beggar to be healed. Frankly it’s been amazing to read the bible in a whole new light; with brand new eyes!
Reading the bible as a story-book and not some mandatory 10-minute devo has changed my perspectives on the significance of a lot of the stories, and given me the opportunity to derive new implications with excitement from these stories. Soaking them up as I would a Harry Potter book or a good chick-flick is regrettably something I have never done before. But thank God for my imagination, and for spurring my imagination to new heights. I’ve found that you can obtain substantially different outlooks just from placing yourself in these stories as the different characters—for example in this Acts 3 story I’ve imagined myself as the beggar, stretching my legs for the VERY first time, jumping for the very first time feeling how it feels to be momentarily suspended in air, and feeling uncontrollable excitement that causes my entire body to tremble. How it must’ve felt to come to the realization that I would never again be forced to sit and beg, but instead work for what I earn; to feel the satisfying feeling of a full days’ work.
I then placed myself in the shoes of his wife. She may or may not have existed, the bible doesn’t say, but if she did exist she wasn’t present at the healing. No she was at home cleaning up the small house, tears in her eyes as she lamented at the frustration of having a crippled husband that she both loved and resented. Her knees calloused from all the time spent in bended-knee prayer. Hearing a distant shout and recognizing the voice as her husbands’ but automatically chastising herself for thinking such thoughts, for she’d never really allowed herself to hope before. Gritting her teeth in anger at the thought that God never listened to any of her prayers and blocking out the sound that reminded her so much of her husbands’ voice. Then how startled she must have been as the door flew open and her husband was standing there praising Jesus. How she must have been scared for her life because this couldn’t possibly be her husband! The string of questions that must’ve flown into her head but how the lines connecting her mind to her tongue must have been prohibited. Standing there stammering, a million emotions flooding her, and almost fainting. Her husband running to her to catch her, and for the first time having her husband hold her instead of her holding her husband. How good his strength must have felt to her and how bold her praises to God would have been that night.
I then imagine how it would have been to be in the crowd….the bible mentions the crowd “when all the people saw him walking and praising God, they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate….and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.” Here in India you come to recognize beggars because they usually station themselves at the same spots daily. So to be one of ‘the people’ that Acts mentions would alone be such an amazing encounter! How much joy I would have to see any of these crippled beggars get up and walk and praise Jesus. I think just witnessing it would forever change my life. When you witness such joy, it’s hard to not be filled with so much joy yourself. So I can only imagine the joy this beggar had, and how contagious it must have been to all the onlookers.
These are only 3 perspectives into this story, and this is only one of several stories of the bible. It’s simply amazing how the worth of these stories alter based on the outlook that you take! You can derive so much more value from these stories if you employ your imagination just a little bit more! Infact I would encourage you to do so!
This passage reminds me so much of India. I have now witnessed what a beggar on the steps of a temple (or church) looks like. It’s simply amazing that Peter and John gave him more than money. In a sense they gave him life. He could now find work, provide for a wife, support a family, and WALK! I'm not a man, but I’ve heard as a man just how good it feels to be able to provide for a family. To have that piece of satisfaction given must have felt amazing. Not to mention being given the chance at giving a receiving love in a martial union! “Silver or gold I do not have but what I do have I give you.” I am not rich, but I have can give my time, energy, love, passion and joy to others. God doesn’t call all of us to just give monetarily. No He calls us to give what He has blessed us with; for some that is money, for others (like me) that is love and energy.
This story has taken on an entirely new meaning for me after being her in India and seeing what a crippled beggar looks like. After seeing the despair in their eyes, and their shriveled feet I have now found a new appreciation for what Peter and John did for this man. A lifetime of sitting day in and day out watching everyone else walk, feeling all sorts of resentment towards them for taking their ability to walk for granted….then being blessed with the opportunity to walk. You know how it feels to sit for a long time in a car and how good it feels to get out and stretch your legs? Multiply that by a lifetime of sitting, and imagine how amazing the feeling of stretching your legs would be! The passage continues to say that the man accompanied Peter and John into the temple; something he had probably never done! I imagine he jumped, danced, skipped, ran, walked, and just used the entire next week to discover all that his legs could do. This passage has taken on an entire new meaning for me now that I can picture vividly the beggar.
Being here in India has opened up my eyes just a little bit to how it must have been in biblical times. A lot of times America is too ‘modern’ to allow our imaginations to fully comprehend all these stories. But being in a less modernized country nudges the imagination thus opening up all new possibilities to all the bible stories. To finally understand just how dirty the disciples’ feet must have been after walking along the dusty roads and know how self-conscious they must’ve felt having their master and Lord wash their feet, or picture the disciples as fishermen in a small wooden boat (like those in Goa), or to even understand how much it must have truly meant for a crippled beggar to be healed. Frankly it’s been amazing to read the bible in a whole new light; with brand new eyes!
Reading the bible as a story-book and not some mandatory 10-minute devo has changed my perspectives on the significance of a lot of the stories, and given me the opportunity to derive new implications with excitement from these stories. Soaking them up as I would a Harry Potter book or a good chick-flick is regrettably something I have never done before. But thank God for my imagination, and for spurring my imagination to new heights. I’ve found that you can obtain substantially different outlooks just from placing yourself in these stories as the different characters—for example in this Acts 3 story I’ve imagined myself as the beggar, stretching my legs for the VERY first time, jumping for the very first time feeling how it feels to be momentarily suspended in air, and feeling uncontrollable excitement that causes my entire body to tremble. How it must’ve felt to come to the realization that I would never again be forced to sit and beg, but instead work for what I earn; to feel the satisfying feeling of a full days’ work.
I then placed myself in the shoes of his wife. She may or may not have existed, the bible doesn’t say, but if she did exist she wasn’t present at the healing. No she was at home cleaning up the small house, tears in her eyes as she lamented at the frustration of having a crippled husband that she both loved and resented. Her knees calloused from all the time spent in bended-knee prayer. Hearing a distant shout and recognizing the voice as her husbands’ but automatically chastising herself for thinking such thoughts, for she’d never really allowed herself to hope before. Gritting her teeth in anger at the thought that God never listened to any of her prayers and blocking out the sound that reminded her so much of her husbands’ voice. Then how startled she must have been as the door flew open and her husband was standing there praising Jesus. How she must have been scared for her life because this couldn’t possibly be her husband! The string of questions that must’ve flown into her head but how the lines connecting her mind to her tongue must have been prohibited. Standing there stammering, a million emotions flooding her, and almost fainting. Her husband running to her to catch her, and for the first time having her husband hold her instead of her holding her husband. How good his strength must have felt to her and how bold her praises to God would have been that night.
I then imagine how it would have been to be in the crowd….the bible mentions the crowd “when all the people saw him walking and praising God, they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate….and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.” Here in India you come to recognize beggars because they usually station themselves at the same spots daily. So to be one of ‘the people’ that Acts mentions would alone be such an amazing encounter! How much joy I would have to see any of these crippled beggars get up and walk and praise Jesus. I think just witnessing it would forever change my life. When you witness such joy, it’s hard to not be filled with so much joy yourself. So I can only imagine the joy this beggar had, and how contagious it must have been to all the onlookers.
These are only 3 perspectives into this story, and this is only one of several stories of the bible. It’s simply amazing how the worth of these stories alter based on the outlook that you take! You can derive so much more value from these stories if you employ your imagination just a little bit more! Infact I would encourage you to do so!
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