What a different world we have experienced for the past 8 days.A round ten teams of 4 people gathered in the capitol of the country for a week-long orientation. We had seminars on different subjects, including lessons on the country's primary religion and we even had several scavenger hunts throughout the city. Experiencing first hand the culture here has been eye-opening and heart softening. How do I begin to describe this intense darkness and oppression that looms heavier than the smog in the air?
My team and I had the chance to visit a mosque and a large H1ndu temple..and I am not sure how to even depict the darkness found there...
"I walk on a marbled floor, layered in sewage and slum dirt, a black veil concealing my hair. Chimes cling, a Sufi scurries past, my dupata blowing in the dry, polluted wind. A small child tugs on me, "Please! Coins!", a man crippled by Polio sprawls on the temple floor. Young mothers try to soothe their bony infant's cries for milk with a finger, covered in dirt. As I enter, a rows and rows of crippled, elderly women (most are blind, teeth all rotten) cry out on the hard ground for food. Their time is short here on earth, who will tell them of s@lvation found in Him?! Oh, I wish I knew the language...A woman approaches me, her tiny newborn so frail in malnutrition, eyes rimmed in traditional blacken ash, she reaches for my hand. She wants me to touch her baby. I cradle the babies face, telling her how loved they both are. But, my white skin is worshiped here, she believes I can bless her baby with good fortune. We all take off our shoes upon entering the place of worship and immediately flies swarm at our feet. Crowds rush to vendors selling ornate food and flowers, eager to sacrifice everything they have to gain favor in the g0ds eyes. These g0ds are filthy, made of colorful plaster, smothered in remains of sacrificed, sugared food, attracting swarms of flies and prayers pleading for a peace offering. As we walked around, children as young as two years old bowed to the floor, chanting their pleas for mercy. Their eyes are empty, faces sullen. They have found no joy in their 36 million gods, but constantly strive for the approval of a man-made g0d as some even sacrifice their own children in that very temple. Their rejection of G0d and adoration of the manifestation of the enemy results in the epitome of poverty. Children and adults starve to death, but cows and pigs roam in their thick fat."
It was hard to breathe in such darkness, a heaviness was on everyone's chests but we continuously spoke the name of J.C., pleading for S@tan's stronghold over these people to be broken. It is easy to only see the strongholds of the enemy over this place, but it is so important to remember that in the end, Chr!st still has victory! The chains WILL be broken, and what a glorious day that will be.
The rest of the week was a challenge, seeing children enslaved by their pimps, bodies carried on stretchers to the crematoriums, the emptiness in the people's eyes...it is so overwhelming. Kayla and I were followed by beggar children back to our hotel, their little cries for shoes and coins broke my heart. But, it was the little boy in the market that tore me apart. How can I sleep when I know he sleeps on the concrete, wearing nothing but dirty rags for underwear? His little feet caked in mud and human feces, one eye blind, bony little hands asking for food, crying for love. And what do you do when there's a hundred others, just like him, on the same street?! Everything in me screamed to scoop him up, clothe him, let him see his value, to feel like a human being who is worth it. I wanted to rock him all night, wash his tear stained face. But, the only thing I can do right now for these children is hand them a piece of candy, say a pr@yer outloud, and touch them- for these children are never touched, they are the Dalits, the untouchables of the society. If a person of a higher caste comes in contact, they are required to bathe in holy water, to cleanse them of the child's unholiness. To reach out with my hand, to touch their skin, speaks volumes to these children who've never been lovingly touched. I know this is only the beginning of the L0rd absolutely breaking my heart for the people here.
My team and I had the chance to visit a mosque and a large H1ndu temple..and I am not sure how to even depict the darkness found there...
"I walk on a marbled floor, layered in sewage and slum dirt, a black veil concealing my hair. Chimes cling, a Sufi scurries past, my dupata blowing in the dry, polluted wind. A small child tugs on me, "Please! Coins!", a man crippled by Polio sprawls on the temple floor. Young mothers try to soothe their bony infant's cries for milk with a finger, covered in dirt. As I enter, a rows and rows of crippled, elderly women (most are blind, teeth all rotten) cry out on the hard ground for food. Their time is short here on earth, who will tell them of s@lvation found in Him?! Oh, I wish I knew the language...A woman approaches me, her tiny newborn so frail in malnutrition, eyes rimmed in traditional blacken ash, she reaches for my hand. She wants me to touch her baby. I cradle the babies face, telling her how loved they both are. But, my white skin is worshiped here, she believes I can bless her baby with good fortune. We all take off our shoes upon entering the place of worship and immediately flies swarm at our feet. Crowds rush to vendors selling ornate food and flowers, eager to sacrifice everything they have to gain favor in the g0ds eyes. These g0ds are filthy, made of colorful plaster, smothered in remains of sacrificed, sugared food, attracting swarms of flies and prayers pleading for a peace offering. As we walked around, children as young as two years old bowed to the floor, chanting their pleas for mercy. Their eyes are empty, faces sullen. They have found no joy in their 36 million gods, but constantly strive for the approval of a man-made g0d as some even sacrifice their own children in that very temple. Their rejection of G0d and adoration of the manifestation of the enemy results in the epitome of poverty. Children and adults starve to death, but cows and pigs roam in their thick fat."
It was hard to breathe in such darkness, a heaviness was on everyone's chests but we continuously spoke the name of J.C., pleading for S@tan's stronghold over these people to be broken. It is easy to only see the strongholds of the enemy over this place, but it is so important to remember that in the end, Chr!st still has victory! The chains WILL be broken, and what a glorious day that will be.
The rest of the week was a challenge, seeing children enslaved by their pimps, bodies carried on stretchers to the crematoriums, the emptiness in the people's eyes...it is so overwhelming. Kayla and I were followed by beggar children back to our hotel, their little cries for shoes and coins broke my heart. But, it was the little boy in the market that tore me apart. How can I sleep when I know he sleeps on the concrete, wearing nothing but dirty rags for underwear? His little feet caked in mud and human feces, one eye blind, bony little hands asking for food, crying for love. And what do you do when there's a hundred others, just like him, on the same street?! Everything in me screamed to scoop him up, clothe him, let him see his value, to feel like a human being who is worth it. I wanted to rock him all night, wash his tear stained face. But, the only thing I can do right now for these children is hand them a piece of candy, say a pr@yer outloud, and touch them- for these children are never touched, they are the Dalits, the untouchables of the society. If a person of a higher caste comes in contact, they are required to bathe in holy water, to cleanse them of the child's unholiness. To reach out with my hand, to touch their skin, speaks volumes to these children who've never been lovingly touched. I know this is only the beginning of the L0rd absolutely breaking my heart for the people here.
