I want to talk about Sondra. She’s about 5 ft nothing but after spending few days with her you’d see a giant. Those two precious boys in the photo with us are James, her feisty 2 year old, and Saul, her content and sweet 1 year old. James and Bella have foot races in the hallway of the ‘step above the slums’ building they live in some mornings. Bella usually wins ☺. It’s tough being a mom in the slums. Sondra has none of the conveniences I have at home. Her entire daily schedule depends on what time the water will come. When the water comes, which is normally 10am, she ensues to complete the daily chores. Washing the dishes/pots from dinner/breakfast, hand washing the hamper of baby and mommy clothes, cleaning the floors and finally bathing herself and her sons. When she is finished which takes about 5 hours she gets the family dressed and with the boys, one on each hip walks a mile to her mother’s house (which is a couple of doors down from our loft) to do ministry in the slum for the evening. Sondra can’t take a ‘sesame street’ break for herself, she can’t even simply open the frig to get milk or a quick meal for the kids because she doesn’t have one. Every morning she has to go down four flights of stairs to the dairy vendor for milk, then make every meal from scratch (all with her boys in tow) because she doesn’t have the handiness of a microwave or In-N-Out. Walking is a must; she has no car and she doesn’t even have the luxury of diapers (yes the LUXURY).

When we first came here and saw our place I was like, “12×15 space, a 7 ft. ladder entry, no toilet “God Come ON?!” Okay there were also a couple of obscenities that rattled in my head and the formation of a huge lump in my throat. My mind raced with ideas of how I could pull this off with Bells. Would she have everything she needed? Would I be able to provide for her here? Throughout the next few days I met Sondra and Janya and our neighbors. They embraced us completely into their lives and I learned that I could do this. One night while hanging with Sondra at her place I even mentally imagined Bella’s toys, curtain colors of my choice and of course where I’d put my cleaning supplies-☺. In those days I witnessed a miracle. Because of God’s love manifested through my neighbors, whom by most peoples’ standards are ‘the poorest of the poor’, our needs were not only meet but we were showered with provision. You see the miracle isn’t even that we were provided for, because I will have times of doubt and we will continue be challenged as a family to take risks but God’s love for us, what I experienced this week, will never fade away.  

Okay, so back to Sondra. She is married but you don’t see her husband in the pic above because he spends 3 weeks of the month away from his family. Something I couldn’t imagine being strong enough to endure but Sondra would not stand to be martyred for it. She instead beams at the mention of why her husband is away and exudes, “He will call tonight at 10! He went on a raid today!” See, in the first two days I stayed in Sondra’s home, her husband and his NGO team of saints reported back to us that they had rescued 5 kids from bonded labor (dipping incense sticks and matches is easy for a person with small hands). Sometimes it isn’t good news though; her husband has been beaten in his attempts to rescue children. Rescue is good, obviously, but some children refuse to testify against their captures because they are too afraid. Even worse, some do the work willingly, particularly the bar dancers or prostitutes (but because they are not forced physically does not mean they are not forced by their economic situation).
Sondra not only lacks complaint she expresses desire to do more for the Lord, in her words to “Get back into the ministry.” In hanging out with Sondra I observed quite a ministry. From sitting and praying with a woman who had just been devastated by her mother and sister’s deaths in a train accident to mothering her two children to helping her brother James with his recent entrepreneurial endeavor as a tailor. Needless to say, I no longer complain about the conveniences I miss. And now this place is no longer a decaying overcrowded slum. Your perception of a slum changes when you not only put a face to the people living there but when they actually become your friends. This place is Sondra, James, and Saul, and her sisters and brother. It is Janya and Sudan her son whom Bella asks for every morning. It is Christ’s love for us and IT is family.

“The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain.” Proverbs 31

Gia and I got to spend some much needed time together today.  Our hosts graciously offered to watch Bella, and kick us out of the nest, as we jaunted off into the city alone for the first time.  We went to “Cafe Coffee Day,” which is — what else — India’s version of Starbucks.  Fitting, right?  I think we’ve been hanging in here pretty good — our days are not packed full with riding trains, rickshaws, and other activities, and we rest quite regularly, (that is SURELY not to say just traveling in Mumbai isn’t difficult!), but nothing calms me and makes me more content in life than spending time with my wife.  Just speaking with her, hearing what is on her heart, being able to share my burdens and joys with her, is a blessing I surely don’t deserve.  I am so thankful that I get to spend the rest of my life with her, whether we are in Merced, Fresno, Los Angeles, India, or another place in the world — because truly wherever she is will be home for me.  The writer of Proverbs 31 must have had Gia in mind when he wrote it.

(the picture above was taken in front of Janya’s neighbors house. by the way, Gia is outside with Bella right now and has no idea that I’m posting this…)

“Whenever you enter a town and it’s people welcome you, eat what is set before you. Cure the sick and say to them, ‘The Kingdom of God has come near to you.’” Luke 10:8-9

I can say with confidence now that if you come to India, you will feel like you are re-living many of the stories written in the Bible. In Calcutta in 2004, I felt like I was in Acts, walking along with John and Peter up to the Temple only to be stopped by a beggar. Just this past week, we feel like we have re-lived Luke 10 where Jesus sends out the 72. Good thing Jesus didn’t say, “Take no mosquito net on the journey,” because I would have disobeyed.  Yet, that didn’t stop the mosquitos from rejoicing upon my arrival.  Jesus was telling the disciples to live off the hospitality of those they came in contact with as they went out healing and preaching the Gospel of the Kingdom. If the disciples walked through the slums of Mumbai and met Janya,* they would have certainly been in good hands.

After spending a few days in one of Mumbai’s slums, it would be all to easy to report on the difficulty of life for all who call this place home, but you’ll have to look elsewhere for a sob story because I want to write about Janya. Please don’t think I’m diminishing the low quality of life for people living in slums (which includes Janya) – their struggles are very real and should disturb you. When our hosts were looking for a place for us to stay in the community where they used to live, they called Janya. She found a place and cooked our food, but her hospitality went well beyond that.

Janya had us re-thinking the age-old question, “what is poverty?” Her story is similar to scores of slum-dwellers in India’s mega-cities. I’m not positive what brought her to Mumbai from her village in Southern India, but it has to be the same reason most relocate to the city against their will – their village unable to provide for its residents.  Before moving to her current home, she lived in Dharavi – which you might recognize as the largest slum in Asia and the place where Slumdog was partially filmed (her uncle still lives there, whom we will visit next week). She, her husband and two sons have lived in their home, which is probably about 15 ft. by 15 ft, for about 9 years now. But they actually own the place, and have even built an upstairs room that they rent out.  Janya no longer has to work her 14 hour job as her husband is able to provide for the family – though that provision takes 13 hours a day for 6 days a week to accomplish. And moving beyond a material definition of poverty, Janya might be the most joyful woman I’ve ever met, complete with the love of Christ in her life. So is Janya poor? I have to say yes… She is poor, but the self-centered rich man in the States who is spiritually empty is the one living in poverty.

Beyond making each meal for us, she offers to fill up our water tank every few hours (water only comes for a short time during the day). When we leave breakfast, she says, “You give me your clothes,” so she can wash them. She won’t even let us say “thank you” because “that’s for strangers.” So, basically she is doing everything for us that a hired maid would do, but she won’t accept any money (and she bought all our food!) because that would make her our worker, and she just wants to be our friend. During our first breakfast, she asked, “You want coffee?” We replied, “If you are having it, we will drink some.” She says, “It’s no problem. I already make.” “Ok then, we’ll have some.” Then she sends her youngest boy out the door to go buy a package of Nescafe.

Look at Janya below with Bella and wrap your mind around this one – we took that picture right after she grabbed a 500-rupee note (just over $10 dollars) and tried to give it to Bella so she could “buy something nice.”  But what amazes me most is that Janya acted as if we were doing her a favor by coming to her home, eating her food, and letting her wash our clothes.

As Gia and I discuss our future, and whether we could move to an Indian slum, we know it will be incredibly difficult because we will miss our home and family so much. But now we have a different problem because we met Janya.  When we return home, we will miss her terribly.  After only 4 days, she already feels like family, and I’m so thankful for our time with her.

As we ate in Janya’s home, the neighbors little girl was frequently heard coughing – she was sick with a fever.  We struggle a lot with the question, “What can we possibly bring to this community?”  Jesus partially answers that question by telling the 72 to “cure the sick.”  As we left, the little girl still coughing, we excitedly asked Janya if we could go pray for her – thinking that healing prayer might be the only thing we could possibly provide.  Janya already knew the answer (which unfortunately was”no”) because she had already offered to pray for the little girl.  She told us, “Just pray in your heart.”  She is undoubtedly a light in her community – please pray her neighbors will have the eyes to see it.

*name changed for security.

Now that we are settled in Mumbai, it feels weird to say this adventure has only just begun – as if traveling almost 30 hours with a 2 year old doesn’t qualify as an adventure in itself. We stepped off the plane and were greeted by India’s humidity and chaos. The memories of my first trip to Calcutta are still so vivid and fresh that even though it was 5 years ago they have driven me to bring my wife and daughter back with me. Yet after only a few days of being here, I can already see this trip being decidedly different from the first. So far Mumbai feels less humid, less chaotic, and more Westernized (though that will change very quickly). In only two days of being here I have already seen a billboard advertising the new movie about Michael Jackson, heard a Justin Timberlake song playing in one bazaar, about 5 other Michael Jackson songs in another electronic store, and our next door neighbor take his best shot at “Enter Sandman” and “Voodoo Chile” on his horribly out of tune electric guitar – though I really appreciate the effort! I even saw one young boy wearing a Manchester United jersey with a large “AIG” advertisement on the front. I asked him how he felt about the AIG execs using bailout money for vacation. Indifferent and annoyed with my question, he didn’t bother to answer. Gia tried to let him off the hook and changed the subject – asking some ridiculous question about what his name is – but not quick enough as I managed to mutter a parting shot under my breath (something about thinking twice before willfully advertising for and serving the interests of capitalist fat-cats).

A big difference is we are mostly away from the chaos of the city. Mumbai has grown to the North and, though it certainly cannot be considered a suburb, the area of town we are staying has much more space and much less noise. Immediately to the East is even a National Park of sorts. I can actually see nice trees on a small mountain (though the local will warn of entering the Park after sunset since “Bagheera” has been known to make appearances). This will all change tomorrow when we move into a slum for a few days. Our hosts have arranged for us to stay in somewhat of a “project” – the government has relocated many of the residents of a nearby slum to a housing community. So we will go there for a bit. We figure it’s wise to visit while we are relatively healthy since we won’t have our own bathroom. Should be fun. Care to join us? We’ll settle for prayers.

But, undoubtedly, the biggest difference between my first trip and this one is simply that I now have a family – a wife and daughter that are with me. It’s not at all surprising that having a wife and daughter changes things. As a single dude, I conquered Calcutta with reckless abandon – and by “reckless abandon” I mean almost being killed by a commuter train and returning with giardia. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that for the last (almost) 4 years (and 2 with a child) I have given myself completely to my family. When I give, when I’m selfless, it is for Gia and Bella. As we talked about in my prophets class this summer, the word translated as “justice” a lot in the OT (tsedaqah) really just means, (Goldingay’s rough translation) “doing what’s right in your own context” (rather than “doing justice for the whole world” – though that doesn’t mean we should strive for that…). “Doing what’s right” for me means, most importantly, taking care of my family – something that gives me more joy than anything in the world (and just doing what’s right in my every day dealings). So, how that translates to my context here is, I’m in a place with a ton of poverty and despair, yet I’m finding difficulty at times to give myself wholly to their cause. Please pray for me as continue to struggle with this.

Lastly, while our hosts have done an incredible job welcoming us and making their home ours, we already miss home. That might change if one of you would gift wrap our bed and send it our way. The typical bed in India is best described as a plywood box of sorts – and someone got the idea that a ½ inch of cotton on top would provide all the cushion your hips would need. What it interesting is we can come down stairs and sit on a nice cushiony sofa, so, as Gia says, the “technology” (i.e. springs) is there but somehow isn’t translated to a bed. I guess China has the same problem with their utensils, right? A farmer will dig a hole with a shovel (i.e. a large spoon), yet they still opt for chopsticks when eating soup. You don’t see a farmer plowing the ground with a couple of pool cues do you? I have a feeling that after a few days in the slum sleeping on tile will make me long for that ½ inch of cotton.

Anyway, keep us in mind and in prayer as we are here. Lord knows we need it…

After 30 hours of travel through cars, planes, and a wild taxi ride….we made it to Mumbai, India.

Here’s Bella on the flight from Newark to Mumbai digging the ‘all you can watch’ Disney movies and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She was a great little traveler-thanks everyone for your prayers.

Getting off the plane was emotional. Watching Brian re-enter this place that God etched on his heart and changed him forever overcame me with joy — joyful in remembering the good things God has done and looking forward to taking part in them myself. Walking off the plane, smelling the smells (smoke + exhaust + burning), feeling the moist heat alongside my guy and my best girl was exciting. We’ve been trying to make this moment happen for over 5 years already! Wow.

We arrived at our host’s home around 10pm and because for us it was 9:30am we weren’t so tired. Bella tested out her new bathing arrangements in the picture below. While Bella was out by 10:30, we unpacked and caught up with our friends until 2am.

We are going to try to be honest with you while here in India. One sad moment already is that Brian’s iPhone never made it. It was lost between the flights from Newark to Mumbai. Ugh. It’s going to take a little while to get adjusted. The time change has been really hard for Bella. On the bright side there is a local playground with swings and a teeter-totter that she loves (that’s for you Gram).

We are going into a part of Mumbai called Vashi tomorrow to shop for Indian attire. Friends have let us borrow items to get us by like my marriage toe rings and necklace called a Mangal Sutra which I LOVE! Tomorrow I buy my very first salwar (long tunic type shirt and basically mc hammer pants with a long scarf), and saree (the traditional outfit here). This will be our first official city adventure including dining on local cuisine and sampling the crazy atmosphere of the open markets. Should be… welp crazy ☺

For God so loved India….

 – Gia

In The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson portrays the presence of evil during the passion narrative with a character that sort of lurks in the crowd and follows Jesus as he is flogged and led to Calvary.  Immediately after Jesus “breathes his last,” the androgynous figure is seen in some sort of pit (apparently in hell), on his knees, beating his chest and screaming in utter anguish.  Presumably, Satan is now realizing he has been conquered by Jesus death—a resulting victory for Jesus and his followers.  The liberty Gibson takes here in the passion narrative—it is not recorded in the Gospels—betrays his understanding of the atonement, more specifically, Satan’s reaction to it. 

I recently read a book where a bunch of guys way smarter than me argue over the nature of the atonement.  One says we need to understand the crucifixion of Christ as a substitution for the death of humanity (penal substitutionary atonement).  Another argues we need to place primary importance on the victory of Christ over Satan, where Satan no longer holds humanity in ransom (Christus Victor).  I really don’t care—I think both are right.  The beauty of Jesus’ work is that it solves a multifaceted problem with a single act.  I draw upon Gibson’s take on the atonement because I think most Christians (myself included) view Good Friday as cause for celebration.  I don’t deny this.  But what is interesting to me is not a single disciple felt like a winner that day; this particular Friday was NOT a “Good” one.  The reality for the disciples was their hopes in Jesus as the Messiah died with the crucifixion.  The disciples did not have the advantage, as we do today, to view Good Friday with Easter Sunday in mind.  It is abundantly clear in the Gospels that the disciples had NO CLUE what Jesus was talking about when he repeatedly said, quite explicitly, that he was going to Jerusalem to die at the hands of Rome and rise again on the third day.  They didn’t get it—otherwise, rather than lopping a man’s ear off, Peter would have said, “Oh no problem, see you on Sunday Jesus! Thanks again…”

At this point, Jesus was no different from the scores of other “Messiahs” who had led temporarily successful revolts against Rome—but ultimately wound up with a violent death.  The disciples were in shock on Friday.  But they had a decision to make—give up their faith in Jesus as Messiah, find a new one, or both.  In fact, we have that answer: “We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel” (Lk 24:21).  On Saturday, their shock would have turned into mourning.  They now need a plan to save their own hands and feet from being nailed to a cross.  Peter was no fool; he was guilty by association.  He did what he did before the rooster crowed all in the interest of self-preservation.  Over time, if they didn’t suffer the same fate as Jesus, their mourning might have turned into fond reminiscing about the good ol’ days when Jesus walked the earth.  Some might have even been angry that they were fooled into believing Jesus was the Messiah.  But eventually, they would have moved on—maybe visiting the tomb of Jesus once in a while to remember him.  Maybe they would have forgotten about him completely when they found another one worthy to follow as Messiah.  Perhaps one strong enough to “restore the Kingdom to Israel”—at least one that was strong enough to escape violent death for insurrection (provoked by his own people, no less).  Whatever the case, the story of Jesus of Nazareth might have been told for a while, but eventually would have died out and surely would not have lived on until today.  Most importantly, on Saturday, Jesus could no longer be followed as Messiah, because he was dead.

(to be continued)

(from our recent trip to memphis, which i said i would write more about… but haven’t)

The last few days have been incredibly trying for the Davis family. It all started with flight home from Memphis, particularly with our “missed” connection flight from Denver back to Fresno. I promise to write a longer post about our travel charade later, but for now, suffice to say that we didn’t really miss our flight to Fresno, but United still decided to slam the gate in our face. (Yes, we literally watched the door close, then be informed, “you’ve missed your flight, sir.”  Like I said, more later…)  In the end, United dropped us off in San Jose a few hours after our flight in Fresno was scheduled to land and we needed my mom and sister to come pick us up (all the while our luggage went to Fresno, where our car was also parked).

We had planned to move to Pasadena the following day, which turned out to be somewhat smooth (and expensive) but very difficult since our apartment is on the 2nd floor and there were some tight angles to move around with all our belongings. Our first night in Pasadena turned out to be an eventful one. Isabella woke up around 2pm BURNING hot. Good thing our thermometer was in a box somewhere, but we honestly didn’t need it to know something was severely wrong. While most of you might have been singing Christmas carols in church during the last Sunday before the 25th, the Davis’ were sitting in urgent care. After about 4 hours and chest x-rays, Isabella was diagnosed with pneumonia. This is the third time in the past two months Isabella has been sick, and obviously, she’s more miserable now than she ever has been. To add to the trials, Gia had a sinus infection, and I’m currently getting sick (again… for the second time in the past two weeks).

My child’s sickness strikes me in ways that nothing else can. It prompts some deep interaction between God and I. I find myself asking God to heal. I ask Him for health. Then I ask Him… “is that too much to ask?”  Frankly, those prayers have yet to be answered, but that hasn’t stopped me from continuing to ask, and it hasn’t stopped God from responding.

As I sat down to journal at Starbucks, I was listening to music and Chris Tomlin’s “How Great is Our God” began to play.  Then, a pretty intense question popped into my head… Why? Why is our God great?  It seemed like a fair question, given the circumstances of the last few days and the song playing from my computer.  Chris Tomlin attempted to answer the question with his lyrics… because he is “clothed in majesty,” “time is in His hands,” He’s the “Beginning and the End,” and because “darkness tries to hide” and “trembles at His voice.”  In other words, God is “great” because He is large, powerful, timeless, all-knowing or (insert your favorite synonym of “great” here).  Yes, the core characteristics of God should truly inspire awe, but so should standing before Half Dome or the Pyramids of Giza.  So I guess my deeper question is this: should these things alone illicit a response from humanity of praise and worship?  Do we worship God because He is powerful and mighty and awesome and majestic?  Further, what do these things have to do with me?  What do they have to do with my daughter’s sickness?  

It seems appropriate for me to be thinking about these things on Christmas Eve.  For tomorrow represents why God is truly great, decidedly different from any other, and profoundly worthy of humanity’s admiration, praise and worship.  Our God is great because He took an interest–and truly much more than that–in my life, and in my daughters life, and in the lives of the billions who have ever walked this earth.  He is great because after Adam sinned against Him, He STILL called out… “Adam! Where are you??” (it occurs to me that God didn’t have to play hide and seek with Adam).  He hasn’t stopped pursuing us since, and ultimately, He entered humanity and died in our place.  I believe that is the true definition of greatness.

So, I will continue to pray for my daughter to be healed.  I will be persistent.  I will continue to be concerned but hopeful.  But I will also begin a new prayer… that God will show me His greatness in the midst of sickness and difficulty.  I pray that the incarnation of the sovereign God will be enough for my family and I during these trying times.  And I will joyfully sing “O come, O come Emmanuel…”

After reading this article in a world renowned newspaper, the Merced Sun-Star, I felt compelled to address something that has actually been on my mind since election day.  The Christian community isn’t known for being silent over political matters, particularly relating to gay marriage or abortion.  While I think it’s somewhat of a travesty that we have chosen to throw our full weight and support behind only two issues and neglect others, my intent here isn’t to diminish that support or comment on what other issues we should be talking about.  So, I wasn’t surprised to see church folk proudly displaying “Yes on 8″ signs on street corners in the days leading up to November 4th.  I wasn’t surprised to see the Christian community largely supporting the Republican Party and the subsequent disapproval of Obama’s victory.  I was surprised, however, to see the extent of the hostility and animosity Christians displayed at the outcome of the presidential election… and I’m still surprised that so many Christians seemingly place so much hope in a pagan nation.  I was further surprised to see the animosity Christians had toward even their Christian brothers and sisters.  Politics and elections seem to bring out people’s true colors.  I don’t expect Christians to be required to agree on anything non-essential to the Gospel, but I do expect Christians to treat each other with dignity and respect.  We are to bear witness to the transforming power of Christ by the way we love each other, NOT by the way we vote or “stand up for what we believe in” at the polls.  So, to spew venom at another Christian over their thoughts on politics is absolutely inexcusable.  If I have done this to any of my brothers or sisters, I am truly sorry…

With that said, on with the “post election post” and what inspired me to write this anyway…  If you read the article I linked to you above, something should immediately alarm you.  What’s alarming to me is that several times above I referenced to “the Christian community,” which can only be defined here as “white evangelicals.”  I have completely neglected my black brothers and sisters in Christ with my definition.  What alarms me is while white Christians were sickened by the election of Obama, black Christians rejoiced.  While white Christians were sitting in Church on November 9th in sackcloth and ashes, repenting on behalf of the nation’s choice for president, black Christians were blowing rams horns.  How can it be that we are so divided?  What is extremely disturbing is we are not just a reflection of the larger society’s division over race, we are even worse.  As Martin Luther King said over 50 years ago (and articulated VERY well in the book Divided by Faith), Sunday is the most segregated day of the week.  This fact remains and is weighing on my heart today.  Election Day, unfortunately, reveals this divide.

What I hope to be giving here is a desperate plea to Christians everywhere, especially to those who were born with contrasting skin colors, is to be united by the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Don’t seek unity over a political party, economic policy or state Proposition… for in those things we will always be divided.  Yet, these issues pale in comparison to what really matters, which is the Gospel of Christ.

somehow this has turned into no-haircut november (and possibly beyond) too.  to satisfy the request of some friends, here’s a pic.  it’s the best i can do right now…  i can’t find our camera right now so a photobooth pic on my mac will have to do!

 

does anyone else think that if i actually grew a beard out i’d look amish?