And where does India fit in to all of this? The answer is, it really doesn’t. India is a completely different reality. While I feel a special bond with Indian people and culture, I do find that it takes a conscious effort to remember the kids of Bethania. I’m just being honest here. Day after day, I am surrounded by such incredible comforts of American wealth. This makes it extremely difficult to be mindful of the very real catastrophes of poverty in India. It truly is unfair that I have been blessed with so much, while others have so little. And the problems seem so overwhelming… yet, with everything that distracts me, I can pretty easily forget about them.

God never forgets about the Bethania children. He knows and loves Divya and Prakash exactly the same as he knows and loves you and me. He also knows and loves the countless other needy children whose lives have not yet been touched by Bethania. One of my favorite passages of scripture is found in Psalm 103, where it says:

“For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.” (Psalm 103:11-14, ESV)

Thankfully God’s love is constant and unchanging, even in spite of our shortcomings. Though I can be self-absorbed at times, I know that Jesus Christ forgives my sin. I am inspired by God’s love to share the blessings that I have been given with the Bethania children. Through the mundane routines in life, it is important to keep the Bethania children, and all of those who are hurting and feeling unloved close in our hearts and minds. How do you try to remember all of Christ’s needy children throughout the daily routines of your life?

It was for the purpose of seeing these walls that I was pulled into that small office at some point in each of my visits. Three of the four walls contained neat rows of letter-sized sheets of paper. On two walls, each paper contained the picture of one of the children currently living at Kannivadi, along with his or her basic information – name, birthday, hometown, interests, and future goals. The kids showed me each of these simple profiles, blushing when we’d come to their own. There was a lot of running around the room as they showed me sibling connections and I tried to keep it all straight.

The most exciting wall was the third one – the wall containing the profiles of Bethania’s graduates. Here were pictures and names of individuals who had started out as young girls and boys at Bethania, finding hope and joy just as the kids around me were discovering. They too had studied diligently in school with dreams of one day gaining training in their desired profession. Now, my self-appointed tour guides enthusiastically reported the achievements of each of these girls and boys, who had now become skilled women and men. Some are in nursing school, some are being trained to work with computers, and others are studying hotel management. “Look sister, my brother. He now study in university!”

With each report of a graduate’s accomplishments, I began to grasp the importance of this room. It represented hope and possibility for each of the kids around me. It served as a very personal reminder that their dreams could actually become a reality. The impossible had happened for this wall of graduates; perhaps it could happen for the other two walls of hopeful children as well.

And so with each visit, I grew to appreciate that guided tour of the Bethania Hall of Fame more and more. I look forward to the day when all my little tour guides will be up on the graduates’ wall as well. They’ll join their elder heroes to inspire a new group of enthusiastic children to work hard and follow their dreams.

The day I spent in Kanyakumari was, without a doubt, one of the highlights of my trip. We started off the morning watching the sunrise over the three bodies of water. My first thought was that watching the sunrise on a beach in India would be similar to watching it on a beach in America. There would be a few early risers out to watch the spectacle, but for the most part it would be a serene, calm and relaxing way to start the day. However, like most of my expectations for India, I was completely wrong.

Hoards of people filled the beaches with countless vendors trying to sell me “Chai Tea!” and “Coffee, coffee, coffee,” postcards, and even little toy boats. The place was buzzing and it was not even 5:30 in the morning on a Tuesday! I was wondering why so many people pulled themselves out of their beds that morning just to see a sunrise, when all of a sudden, the sun began to rise over the three bodies of water. I immediately knew why there were crowds.

As soon as the gold sphere broke over the horizon, the light emanating from it painted itself in a beautiful mosaic of colors across the grey sky. The entire scene changed from dark and bleak to bursting with color in a matter of seconds. As if the scene was not already enough to count itself among the most beautiful art pieces created, the sounds that accompanied were overwhelming with awe.

The hoards of people erupted into cheers, singing, and wailing as the first beam of light splashed across the sky. Seeds, rice and multi-colored lentils were thrown into the air while many of the onlookers raised their arms up to the Heavens or bowed their heads into the sandy beaches. It was as if the light from the sun poured its energy into every person gathered on the shore and, charged with its vigor, everyone exploded with worship and praise.

The only problem with the entire scene was that all those gathered to see the beautiful spectacle were worshipping a Hindu god. They were lifting their arms to Brahman, or to some other unknown god different from our Christ. But with such beauty, devotion, and sincerity did they do it! If only all those gathered were Christian brothers and sisters praising God for His faithfulness and love, how much more beautiful the scene would be. I look forward to the day when all those devout Hindus gathered on the sandy beach will gather there not to thank Brahman, but to thank Christ for the gift of the Sun. When that happens, we will all sing the Psalm of David in Psalm 35:18, “I will give You thanks in the great congregation; I will praise You among a mighty throng.”

This is a video I shot while we were waiting for the sunrise.

“Good morning, sister! How was your sleep?”

I tried out the Tamil words they had taught me the night before. “Kalay Vannakum, thangkachi.” I quickly checked with them to see if I had said it right and indeed said, “Good morning, younger sister,” as I had intended. Apparently, I got it right. I trusted their response, remembering how they had laughed uncontrollably when I made a mistake last night. No amount of desire to be polite could keep them from a chance to have a good laugh, even if it was at my expense.

We started off by walking over a stone wall to cross a small stream running next to the grounds. Once on the other side, we began to climb up a rough rock slope. With the uneven and steep ground, I looked to make sure my little friends with their chappals (flip flops) were doing ok. Apparently, they had the same concern for me, for I quickly found my white hands filled with two brown ones on either side. “Careful, sister. This way, sister.” Together, we’d be just fine.

Before we had gotten very far up the slope, the kids stopped and looked back at their home, which had quickly shrunk in size during our short climb. Seeing a few friends who had woken up late, they yelled over in rapid Tamil and gestured emphatically. It looked like we’d be waiting for these new additions to join us before going any further.

Now that my attention had been turned from the steep climb in front of us to the path from which we had come, I raised my eyes to the view that surrounded us. The early morning mist was still lingering over the trees and houses scattered across the flat plains. Wispy clouds reflected the last orange remnants of what must have been a brilliant sunrise. In an hour or two, the oppressive heat of the plains would no doubt descend and remain into the evening. For now, though, cool morning breezes brought an air of refreshment and hope.

As I looked across the plains as far as my eyes could see, I wondered how many hurting and destitute children were feeling this same breeze. How many kids were waking up to another day of manual labor, hunger, abuse, and despair?

With India’s population exceeding one billion people, the children bear the brunt of the scarcity and hardship that plagues the country. BBC recently reported that 42% of Indian children under the age of five are suffering from malnutrition and that India has the highest rate of stunted growth among children in the world[1]. It is heartbreaking to know that such a beautiful and culturally rich land is also the home to so much poverty and suffering.

I know that my aching heart is a reflection of God’s own heart, which breaks for the oppressed children of India. In Luke 4, Jesus reads a prophecy about Himself from Isaiah. He declares that He has come to, “preach good news to the poor…. proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” While Jesus certainly brings freedom to those who are spiritually oppressed and poor, I believe that He also brings physical freedom and restoration to the destitute of the world. The gospel, fully lived out, means salvation both for our souls and for our daily lives as well. This aspect of the gospel will not be fully realized until Christ’s second coming, but it is fulfilled in part through His body in the world today.

So while I scanned this beautiful country, I knew that the view contained more suffering than I could imagine – tucked in small shacks, under trees, and in alleyways. Brokenness is still prevalent in the world, and South India knows it well. Yet the small brown hands clasping mine reminded me that Jesus is not absent or inactive here. The wide smiles, healthy bodies, and loud laughter of my thambis and thankachis at Bethania are evidence of Jesus’ love and salvation in India. Hope has entered the lives of these precious children through the generosity of believers, divine provision, tangible love, and the good news of the gospel.

After waiting for half a dozen more kids to join us on the mountain and many loud exchanges back and forth in the process, the peacocks were long gone. Regardless of the missed experience, I valued the time spent with those sweet kids and hoped that they knew that they were far more important to me than dancing peacocks. These beautiful children – who have experienced more pain in their short lives than anyone ever should – are deeply loved by their Heavenly Father who adopts them into His eternal family. These kids don’t need to simply believe this is true because some book or preacher says so, they know it’s true because they experience it every day through the clothes on their back, the food in their stomach, and the roofs over their heads. I pray that many more precious children in India will be able to know this love as well, as the gospel is spread both in word and in deed until Christ returns.