Just another form of public transportation. | 2012 | Agra, India

I am always curious about why a man or a woman will forsake any prospects of comfort and a normal life in order to do something hard. When Navin and his wife became aware of the plight of the railway kids, they prayed and fasted as they sought God’s direction about what to do. Ignoring the problem was not an option. They felt they needed to act in order to make a difference in the lives of these kids. And, they did not allow the magnitude of the need to discourage them. They understood that they could not do everything but that they could do something. So, they decided to start by opening their own home to these kids who lived like animals, sniffed glue and paint thinner, ate from garbage bins, and picked pockets in order to survive.

The first year was the toughest. Navin said, “The kids would not sleep and constantly fought with one another.” But Navin and his wife continued to patiently love and work with these kids. I had an opportunity to meet several of the boys and a couple of the girls. They were polite and courteous and calm. Today, these kids attend a Christian school and have a hope for a brighter future. Since starting their work in 2006, Navin told me that they have been able to reunite three kids with their families. And at a recent church service, one of the boys asked for prayer for his mom and dad because he did not know where they were. Like others Navin and his wife have helped, this young boy became separated from his parents amid the hundreds of thousands of passengers that pass through the railway station every day. Perhaps one day he too will be reunited with his family. In the meantime, he has a safe place to live and will get a good education because one man and is wife could not ignore the plight of children like him.

My friend Don told me that although he has many needs, Navin never asks for anything. Instead he prays and trusts God daily to make provision for their rent, food, clothing, medicines, school tuition, and other needs. Navin and his wife can testify to God’s faithfulness in giving them their daily bread. After leaving Navin’s home, God impressed upon me to do something to help. So, on behalf of the people of Kingsland, I was able to purchase mattresses and a water heater for the kids. We had everything delivered the following day. Navin was overjoyed and filled with gratitude. I am thankful to have had the opportunity to meet Navin and look forward to seeing him again when I return to Kolkata. He and his wife are officially on my list of unsung heroes. They are making a difference.

I returned home from Kolkata yesterday after two long flights on Emirates Airlines. No matter what route you take to or from Kolkata, it’s a long trip — one that I’ve made several times. As usual, I not only had time to try to sleep a bit on the flight home, I also had lots of time to think and reflect on my most recent visit to the City of Joy. Part way into the trip home, I had a nice conversation with two of the flight attendants. One was from Nairobi and the other from, of all places, Kolkata! Needless to say, I had a long conversation with the young lady from Kolkata and learned new things about some of the older parts of the city. She smiled and nodded in agreement when I said that there is nothing boring about Kolkata. Whether you are a resident or a visitor, Kolkata offers a kaleidoscope of constantly changing scenes that will sadden and amuse you or that will provoke you to anger or action. The bottom line is that it is nearly impossible to be passive in Kolkata.

My life in Katy, Texas is so different from life in Kolkata. Suburban life is designed to protect our privacy, maximize our security, and in a way, isolate us from others. We can manage our exposure to other people in the suburbs. I hardly see any of my neighbors during the week. Most of them park their cars in their garage. So, they leave for work or school in the morning and return at the end of the day without ever having to use the front door of their homes. Our boulevards are clean and pleasant and the only time we see a homeless person is when we are closer to the interstate highway that bisects our community. And even then, we don’t have to interact with the folks holding their cardboard résumé that tell us they are homeless and hungry. We essentially live day in and day out with few things that challenge us to think deeply about our faith and its application. Not so in a place like Kolkata.

A typical Kolkata sidewalk.

One of the reasons I love Kolkata is that it puts me in direct contact with humanity. Like most people in the city, I have to depend on public transportation that forces me to get over any notions of personal space. Whether I board a bus or a trolley or get into a cab or climb into a rickshaw, I am face to face or shoulder to shoulder with others. And then there are the multitudes of beggars with filthy hands and longing eyes — mostly little children, women, or the elderly. It is absolutely impossible to avoid them. I also do a lot of walking from place to place while in Kolkata and get to see life on the streets in slower motion. No matter how you get around in Kolkata, you can’t avoid the people and you can’t avoid having to think about them and their spiritual and physical condition and how to live out your faith among them.

Traveling to places like Kolkata has challenged me to become more intentional about developing peripheral compassion in my own community. You develop peripheral compassion by slowing down a bit, taking the time to look to the right and to the left, looking for clues that lead you to discover need, noticing and talking to the people you encounter every day (including those behind the cash registers of the places where you eat and shop), and thinking deeply about how God can use you to develop relationships that will open doors to share your faith with others. We must look for ways to maximize our exposure to humanity in the places where we live. We must learn to feel the pulse and listen to the heartbeat of our community. Just because human needs and suffering are not as obvious here does not mean that they do not exist.

I recently read a story about a rich man from Holland who asked Mother Teresa if he should give up his big home and his big car. Mother Teresa replied, “No. But what I want you to do is to go back and see more of the lonely people who live in Holland. Then, every now and then I want you to bring a few of them at a time and entertain them. Bring them in that car of yours and let them enjoy a few hours in your beautiful house. Then your house will become a center of love — full of light, full of joy, full of life.” (from “Reaching Out in Love: Stories Told by Mother Teresa,” pages 151-152). That’s great advice for those of us blessed and privileged to live in comfortable and safe places. Purpose to make your home a center of love where God’s name will be glorified and made famous throughout this new year and beyond.

According to statistics, 27 million people on the planet today live in some form of slavery or bondage. That’s a disturbing statistic, the kind of information that gives us insight into the magnitude of a global problem. However, it’s important to peel back those numbers to learn the stories of those who live or have lived in some form of slavery. Personal stories are powerful because they can give us insight into how a person becomes a part of disturbing statistics. And, because personal stories tend to touch our hearts they can also compel us to become a part of the solution — to act in a practical and measurable way to make a difference. It’s easy for us to shake our heads and dismiss disturbing statistics and exclaim, “What a shame!” But, it’s harder to dismiss the story of just one person who has experienced the horrors reflected by the statistics.

A little more than two years ago, I led our missions ministry to became engaged in the fight against human trafficking. We now have several justice partners with whom we work both at home and abroad. Among these is an aftercare home for young girls rescued from the forced commercial sex trade in the brothels of South Asia. Every time I visit this home I am reminded of why we must remain engaged in the fight against injustice. And every time I listen to a young girl tell her story, I understand a little better why God is concerned about the welfare of the victims of injustice and all who are destitute, poor, and needy. Those trapped in the world of slavery need for us to hear their cries, to speak and to act on their behalf, and to champion their cause. You cannot unlock the shackles of the enslaved with the dull keys of ignorance, silence, and inactivity. We must become increasingly knowledgeable, intentionally engaged, and strategically active in order to bring about change.

Yesterday, I met a thirteen year-old girl who lives in the aftercare home we support. She is new here since my last visit. She has a beautiful smile but lonely and longing eyes. She approached me and stared at me for a moment and then said, “You remind me of my father.” I asked, “When was the last time you saw your father?” And with that, her story began to unfold. This young lady is from a small village in a neighboring country. Almost a year ago, her family sent her to visit her aunt in a larger city. While there, a neighbor invited her to accompany her into the city to run some errands. That was the last time she saw her aunt. She remembered waking up in a room where her descent into hell began. For four months she was kept in a drug-induced stupor so that men could have their way with her. Then she remembers waking up in a police station where she was told that she had been unconscious for four days. The courts placed her in aftercare where she is recovering from her ordeal.

I asked her how she survived through her unimaginably dark days in captivity where she was forced to service the sexual whims of evil men. “God was with me. That’s why I am saved.” And then she told me how much she misses her parents and wishes that she could contact them and just talk with them. But, she can’t even remember where her village is located. She hopes that one day she can find her way back home to her family. In the meantime, she has a safe place to live and to recover. I encouraged her as much as I could and then, as we finished our conversation, told her that she had a beautiful smile. “If I don’t smile,” she said, “I won’t be able to live.” That is a beautiful testimony to her faith and resilient spirit. This sweet little girl with the beautiful smile has hope and I am confident that one day she will be reunited with her family. I can only imagine that there will be lots of beautiful smiles on that day.

Monguli with Kingsland volunteer Kaytlin Smith.

There is absolutely nothing boring about Kolkata. This city is a sensory smorgasbord. Whether you look to the right or to the left, it’s impossible to escape the sights, sounds, and smells of Kolkata — all mixing and wafting out of a cauldron of ceaseless human activity. And when you take a moment to scratch beneath the surface you’ll find that there is nothing boring about the people. All you have to do is squeeze them gently with a question or two and their personal stories begin to seep to the surface, providing context and clues to their existence, frustrations, hopes, and aspirations. Today, I met a twelve year-old girl, just a face in the crowd of young students attending the only school in the slum of Udayan Pally, a school founded by my friend Pastor Rudra. Her name is Monguli, the oldest daughter of a Bengali cobbler and a maid trying to support their three children on the edge of existence in a hovel crammed among thousands along a foul-smelling canal.

Monguli’s family survives on the equivalent of less than two US dollars a day. Struggling to make ends meet, Monguli’s mother withdrew her from Pastor Rudra’s New Hope School last May and sent her to work as a live-in maid for a family of means. It was a tough choice but the family needed the extra forty-cents a day that Monguli earned by cleaning floors and toilets and dishes and silverware and clothes. At every opportunity, Monguli begged her mother to allow her to return to their home and to school. Pastor Rudra’s wife, Mita, repeatedly begged and reasoned with Monguli’s mother, trying to get her to understand the value of a good education for her daughter. Finally, in October of last year, Monguli’s mother admitted that she had made a mistake by taking her daughter out of school and forcing her to work as a maid. Monguli returned to New Hope School where she continues to excel in her studies. She is a beautiful little girl who truly has new hope.

The slum village of Udayan Pally is crowded with poor Bengali Hindus for whom hope is something elusive and out of reach. The concept of “the future” doesn’t exist here — only surviving today. But, Pastor Rudra wants to change that by educating the children of these refugees and squatters who have staked out a tenuous claim on life on the outskirts of Kolkata. Having visited and served at this school over the past couple of years, I can see remarkable progress in the education of the children who attend. Our ladies team is serving at New Hope School this week. Already they are impressed by Pastor Rudra’s huge vision and even bigger heart for the welfare of a village that is not even on the newest maps of Kolkata and its environs. But what is quietly happening at this little school with more than one-hundred students is indeed bringing new hope to many families. Perhaps one day in the future somebody else will ask Monguli to share her story. I know that it will be a more beautiful narrative because of the work of one man and his wife who did not forget about her when her mother sent her to work as a maid.

I find both joy and comfort in seeing familiar faces when I am away from home. One of the first things I did after arriving in Kolkata was to visit the folks I know along AJC Bose Road. Over the past years I have become friends with beggars, shop keepers, a waiter at a hotel restaurant, a barber, a Muslim laundryman, several nuns at Mother House (headquarters of Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity), and the staff and security guards at the Baptist Missionary Society guesthouse. I have visited each of these folks over the past day and enjoyed smiles, hugs, hearty handshakes, and lots of conversations. And today, I made a new friend — a young Muslim man who runs a cell phone store next to Mother House. I was able to spend more than an hour conversing with him in his shop. We have agreed to stay in touch via email.

This morning, my old friend Don, the guy who handles the logistics for our trips here, and I went to the airport to meet Kay Smith and our Kingsland ladies. Once again, it was wonderful to see their familiar faces as they walked out of the terminal building pushing their luggage carts. Even though most of us see each other every week at church, seeing one another in Kolkata was like a mini family reunion with hugs and smiles and excited conversation. And, although tired from travel, we spent a few hours together getting oriented to life and landmarks on AJC Bose Road and the surrounding area. We visited Mother House, played with the kids at Sishu Bhavan (Mother Teresa’s home for orphans), and traveled by motor-rickshaws and trolley cars to get a quick bite to eat before going to bed. Over the coming days our ladies will work at the slum school we support, with the ladies in a vocational training sewing center we helped to finance, spend time with girls rescued from brothels, visit our justice partners in the city, and visit a ministry to kids rescued near the railroad station that handles a million passengers a day.

There is something really good about returning to the places where we have worked to build relationships and partnerships that are helping to advance God’s interests. Like me, the folks we work with and those we serve are always happy to see our familiar faces. Every time we return someone will say, “You’ve come back!” It means a lot to the folks here to know that we are committed to a long-term relationship with them and the people of Kolkata. I’m glad that they enjoy seeing our faces as much as we enjoy seeing theirs. Whether in Kolkata, India or Katy, Texas, it’s worth taking the time to get to know people and to bring a little joy into their lives. Every time we leave home we should make it a point to carry “a little balm and a little honey” (Gen. 43:11) with us in order to bring both healing and happiness to those we meet along our journey. May we live in such a way that others will smile and be filled with joy when they see our familiar faces.

Cindie and Cheryl at age 16.

My wife Cheryl and her sister Cindie are eight months apart. They were providentially brought together under one roof to be raised by a loving couple who could not have children of their own. Cindie was adopted first, and then eight months later when Cheryl was born, she was adopted into the same family. Their adoptive parents, Gene and Frances Crane, provided a wonderful Christian home for these girls. Cindie and Cheryl have always believed that God brought them together because it was His special plan for them to be sisters and to have Gene and Frances as their parents. God gave them to Gene and Frances — but He also gave them to each another. As sisters, they have shared a lifetime of experiences from childhood to their respective marriages to having kids of their own in the same hospital where they were born and given up for adoption. They share a bond with and a love for one another that is rock solid — one that has become even stronger as they have cared for Cindie’s husband Craig in the final days of his life.

I have called Cheryl a few times from India to get updates on Craig. Every time I have called, Cheryl has broken down and wept. She has wept because of Craig’s intense suffering and obvious decline. And she has wept for her sister whom she loves. She knows that she must return home and then back to work this week but doesn’t want to leave Cindie’s side. As I have prayed for Craig and also for Cindie and Cheryl, I have been especially thankful that Cheryl has had the opportunity to be by Cindie’s side to help care for Craig through the holidays. Sisters were made for times like this. And as I have reflected on the more than thirty-years that I have known Cheryl and Cindie, I am impressed by how they have loved and respected and supported each other throughout those years. I have never known them to be unkind to one another or to fight or argue. I always know when Cindie calls because Cheryl lights up. I can hear the delight in her voice — the kind of genuine joy that you can’t manufacture but that is the product of a lifetime of gratitude for what God did when He brought them together as sisters. Cindie and Cheryl have always treated each other as sisters should — with mutual love, admiration, and respect.

The Psalmist wrote, “Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” (Ps. 133:1) — and indeed God is also pleased when sisters dwell in unity! Over the past thirty-three years of ministry I have learned that tough times do not always bring siblings together. And I have also learned that siblings who are together are better equipped to face the toughest of times. Watching and listening to Cheryl and Cindie through these difficult days of Craig’s imminent death has reminded me of how blessed Craig and I are to be the husbands of these remarkable sisters. Although the days ahead will be difficult as Craig takes his final breaths, I know that Cindie will be able to take another breath and another step because of the love and support of her family and of her sister who loves her as a sister should.

I am back in Kolkata on this first day of the New Year. I have said before that I feel strangely at home in this city of teeming masses. I first visited Kolkata three years ago to serve the least of these at Mother Teresa’s homes. I think that is when it happened and why it happened that I feel drawn to return here. I feel connected to those I have served at Mother Teresa’s homes. Every time I return I am anxious to see them again. Jesus said, “For the poor you always have with you…” (John 12:8). When I read those words I often think that Jesus must have been thinking of Kolkata because it seems the poor have all gathered here. This city is over-saturated with people who live and die on the streets. And this is the city where Mother Teresa unwittingly captured the imagination and respect of the world because of her service to the poor.

Mother Teresa made a difference in the lives of the poor because she made herself totally available to God. It’s amazing what God can accomplish through those whose heart is completely His. Reading several books about the life of Mother Teresa got me interested in learning more about Pope John Paul II, one of the most universally respected leaders in the history of the Catholic Church. Although I am not a Catholic, I was fascinated by the life of this pope. While reading about him I came across the words “Totus Tuus” — a Latin expression that means “totally yours.” Totus Tuus was Pope John Paul II’s apostolic motto, one that he borrowed from a prayer-book by Saint Louis de Montfort. He chose these words to express his devotion to Mary. I do not agree with my Catholic friends about the veneration of Mary, but I do like the expression totus tuus. In its larger context the text that inspired the Pope is this: Totus Tuus ego sum, et omnia mea tua sunt. Accipio te in mea omnia. The translation of these words is, “I belong entirely to you, and all that I have is yours. I take you for my all.”

As I think about the year ahead I have decided to borrow Pope John Paul II’s motto but to apply it to my relationship with Jesus Christ. I am not big on making New Year’s resolutions, but I do like the idea of taking ownership of something that will challenge me to grow in my relationship with Christ in the New Year. I can think of no better challenge than to say to Christ, “I belong entirely to you, and all that I have is yours. I take you for my all.” I have a choice regarding who owns me and who I will serve. I choose to renew my commitment to Christ, to make myself His servant, to live out my faith in practical ways, and to share the life-transforming gospel message with others. And, lest I forget, I am determined to start each day of the New Year by saying to Christ — Totus Tuus.

Happy New Year! Live this year in such a way that if it is your last, then even your dust will praise God and tell the world of His faithfulness (Ps. 30:9).

Today was a significant day in the Khondhamal Hills in Orissa, India — one of those days in which one can see how God has woven many threads together to make something beautiful. My part of the story here started with what I thought would be a one-time visit in the Winter of 1998. Little did I realize when I left these hills to return to my home that one of the threads of my heart had become entangled here and would unwittingly keep me connected to a man named Sudhansu. Years later, when persecution of Christians intensified, Sudhansu opened his home to boys from poor Christian families to ensure that they had a safe place to live and received a good education. When he started this initiative, my friend Jeff Hastings, a Houston attorney who had traveled with me to Orissa, agreed to personally support the work. Later, my friend Jerry Smith, who cares for orphans in Mongolia, agreed to take over support and to help Sudhansu care for an additional 45 boys. And then, finally, after the death of Kingsland member Diane Patterson, I felt a tug on that thread that had kept me connected to Sudhansu.

Because of the generosity of the people of Kingsland and those who loved Diane, a significant amount of money was entrusted to our missions ministry to honor Diane’s love for the nations and especially for the people of India whom she loved. I felt a heavy weight of responsibility as the steward of these funds but God gave me great peace about leading our missions ministry to invest in Sudhansu’s work in the Khondhamal Hills. Within a short period we saw the need to purchase land and to build a campus for the one-hundred boys in Sudhansu’s care. And so, we worked with Sudhansu to purchase a hectare of land on which to build a dormitory and dining facility. For the past two years we have worked to see the construction of this campus through to completion — not an easy task because of the resistance of Hindus in the area who would not sell us building materials and supplies. But, by the grace of God and in spite of opposition, the facilities are built and ready for the boys to occupy.

Today, Marcus Patterson and his children Daniel and Danae had the opportunity to see the campus built in loving memory of Diane. It was an emotional day for all of us as we stood in the midst of what is a part of Diane’s legacy — a home for the boys of the poorest Christian families in the Khondhamal Hills. Many of these boys come from homes that were completely destroyed by Hindu extremists and others have lost parents in the outbreaks of persecution in the area. But because of the concern of Sudhansu and the generosity of the people of Kingsland who gave memorial gifts after Diane’s death, these boys have a new home complete with new beds. The beds are a pretty big deal because these boys have slept on the floor, two to a blanket, for the past seven years. But today, everything changed because God wove something beautiful with the threads of several lives, including all who gave generous gifts. Only heaven will reveal the rest of the story as the boys in Sudhansu’s care serve the purposes of God in their generation.