23: India- The Boys

I told God I could never be a missionary. I was curled over a bucket of curry-flavored puke, and I told Him out loud, “I can never be a missionary. I’m just not cut out for this kind of thing!”

I’d been in India for about a week, I think.

I came as a four-month volunteer to Shishya children’s home and school, started about 30 years ago by some old family friends, the McRaes. I don’t remember ever being particularly interested in their work in India, but somehow this connection came to my mind as a senior in college, scrambling to make future plans. And I decided to go.

India was unlike any place I'd ever seen. Heavy, heart-crushing statistics were now becoming a reality. What could I possibly do to make a difference here? Then again, how could I not do something?

Still, I tried to remain apathetic. I tried to ignore the little girl in the dumpster, and I tried to ignore the God who knew her name. I didn’t want to feel compassion. I didn’t want to stay.

If you’d have asked me as a teenager, or probably even a kid, I would have told you that one day I’d be living overseas as a missionary. As long as this “missions” dream was far away, it seemed, well, dreamy. But now, here in India with my bucket of puke, I wasn’t so certain this was what I wanted anymore. Not just the puke, the whole package—the commitment of being overseas, the sacrifices I’d have to make, the “normal” life I’d have to give up. 

I was Peter, the disciple, in John 13, boldly (and I think, to give him some credit, sincerely) proclaiming, “Jesus, I will lay down my life for you! I’m yours, wholly and completely. Have your way in me!” Which all sounds quite nice and spiritual... until we see Christ on the cross, asking us to join him there— to lose our lives and be found in him. How did he put it?

If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. Matthew 16:24

No thank you.

But as much as I tried to tune Him out, still I heard the nagging, piercing words of Jesus, “Will you lay down your life for me, Amanda? Really? Truly, truly I say to you, the rooster will not crow until you have denied me three times.” (John 13:38)

Jesus was right. About Peter, and about me.

I’m fairly confident that if someone held a gun to my head and asked me if I believed in Jesus, I would say yes. Not to minimize martyrdom, but I think sometimes it would be easier to die for Jesus than to live for Him. To daily, continually, and consciously live for Him.

It was the living for Jesus that scared me to death. I was afraid of obedience—what that would look like, what it would cost. And I was afraid of God’s plan for my life—that following Him would be hard and ultimately unsatisfying.

But I was wrong. So, so wrong.

 

Two weeks into my trip, I lay in bed, eyes wide open, listening to a John Piper podcast about missions, “When Dying is Gain.”

“Do you have it in you,” asked Piper, “to face suffering and persecution and death with joy? No, you don’t! We are so prone to run away from pain and suffering and towards safety, security, comfort, and pleasure. But what motivates a person to embrace even death for the sake of Christ? It’s being absolutely convinced in the promises of God—that ‘the steadfast love of the Lord is better than life.’ (Ps. 63:3)”

Better than life.

I got out of bed, pulled out my Bible, and started paging through the Psalms, counting every single time the phrase “steadfast love” is used—122. And as darkness gave way to dawn, my restless heart gave way to peace indescribable. Here I’d been so terrified of what I would lose if I surrendered my life completely to God, and more specifically, if I stayed in India as I sensed He was asking. But in that moment, I understood—and truly believed—that the steadfast love of the Lord is better than life. If I have this love, what more could I need?

And so... my initial 5-months of "volunteering" turned into an indefinite future in India and more joy than I could contain.

I praise God for melting my cold heart and for allowing those cheeky boys to steal it. :)

What a gift to share life together! We had swim lessons,

and water fights,

and story time,

and mud-pies.

We had birthday parties,

and costume parties,

 

and summer slumber parties on the roof.

But mostly, we had family.

I thank God for the Shishya family and for the ways He used each one of those boys to teach me more about Himself.

They taught me to be thankful. They showed me how to pray. They made me want to work hard, to be content, and to appreciate the little things. They helped me see that truly, the steadfast love of the Lord is better than life.

Thank you, boys, for loving me so well and for allowing me to be a part of your special family. I will never be the same.