Flesh…."The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak," Jesus tells us in Matthew 26:41. Let me tell you about my flesh. It is incredibly weak. It rears it's ugly head often, but most frequently on the bus rides back and forth from the center. One of the first times I tried to catch the bus to the center, the driver didn't stop for me. I stuck my arm out (sort of hitch-hiker style) and looked very pleadingly as the bus approached. The driver made eye contact with me and kept going - seriously. Now, I practically do jumping jacks out in the middle of the road if that's what it takes to make them stop. A few days ago, I forgot my head covering (not smart). I remembered as soon as I jumped on the bus and saw a sea of about 60 brown faces staring at me blankly. Almost as if they were thinking, What is this thing that just catapulted itself onto the bus with us? Did I say 60? Yes, I did. How many passengers was the bus created to hold, you ask. I'm going to go with 30. It was so crowded I couldn't even get to the ticket man to pay him. Someday, I will be brave enough to capture this phenomenon with a photograph. However, I'm not quite ready to draw that much attention. There were no rails available to hold onto, but thankfully there were some handles dangling from the roof. Each time I tried to let go of the handle to get my money out, the bus driver slammed on his brakes sending me into whichever poor person was next to me at the time. Finally, I got my money out and paid the man but I was stuck. No where to turn. Bodies everywhere. Armpits everywhere at eye/nose level. Do you feel sorry for me yet? Because I certainly felt sorry for myself at this point. Funny how quickly we can turn all of our concern to ourselves. It doesn't take much does it? As I stood among my fellow passengers, I began to mentally solve all of India's problems. To take my mind from the bus, I looked out the window where I was met with the sight of about 15 men in a row relieving themselves on the side of the road. Yuck. I turned my head back inside the bus - quickly. Next to me the ticket man was dumping all his trash on the floor of the bus. Really? No wonder so many people are sick. At this point, I was completely frustrated by all the things that are "wrong" here. And I didn't even have my head covering to cover up my frustrated face! I wanted so badly to push my way to the front of the bus, grab the microphone thing (is there even one? Normally the driver just yells.) Anyway, I wanted to push my way up there and make some suggestions to everyone on that bus about how to be healthier starting with not relieving yourself anywhere you please (nevermind the language barrier!). I wish I could have seen myself. I'm sure there was some sort of cloud over my head with rain drops pouring down and tornados of anger spinning out. I was in the midst of frustration and still holding onto the handles as tightly as possible. All of a sudden, someone poked me in the back, which is not unusual. This poke, however, seemed intentional. I turned around as far as I could. An elderly lady was motioning to me that she was getting off the bus and telling me to take her seat. Oh. Humbling. She stood up and practically placed me in her seat, then jumped off the bus. Yep, jumped. An old lady. You have to jump because the driver doesn't usually come to a complete stop. As soon as I sat down, three Indian ladies surrounded me in full protection mode. They wouldn't let anyone get near me and were practically covering me up so no one could see me. Wow. Humbling. These ladies have lived this way their whole lives and they went out of their way to be sure I was protected. They don't even know me. A girl who has only spent a few weeks doing jumping jacks to wave down an overcrowded, steamy bus. They have been doing this their whole lives. And they were kind enough to take care of me. Wow. Thirty minutes later and with significantly less people on the bus, we arrived at the bus stop where the center is located. I walked down the muddy, trashy road, dodging some of the most disgusting things I've ever seen. My heart, though, was not quite as hard. God is faithful to humble us, isn't He?
When I arrived at the center, I was met by this scene:
People, mostly women and children, scrambling around in the mud, yelling at one another. The water truck had come. It was complete chaos. People were angry and frantic. They have no running water and are dependent on the truck for clean water. Later I asked one of the ladies at the center what was going on. She said the water truck had not come to their slum for 4 days. Finally, it came but didn't bring enough water. People were scrambling to get what little they could because they didn't know when the truck would come back. The truck left as quickly as it came and many were left with no water. I wish I could explain to you the look of desperation and sadness in their eyes. They live in survivor mode - not knowing when they will have water or food. The ladies were late to the center that day because they were scrambling for the water but thankfully each of them was able to get some. Humbling.
God is faithful. (2 Timothy 2:13) He is faithful in more ways than the typical ones we think of when we talk about faithfulness. When we think of His faithfulness, we tend to think of the ways He meets our physical or financial needs. We do not so often think of the ways He is faithful to continue molding us into His image. Refining us. Changing us. Sanctifying us. He is faithful to humble us when we need to be humbled. He is faithful to let us see the ugliness of our flesh so we are reminded of how we desperately need His Spirit. He is not content to leave us the same, and aren't you thankful? He will use whatever it takes to open our eyes. And I'm so thankful that He does this over and over. A parent who corrects a child once and then expects perfection is not nearly as loving as one who patiently corrects and disciplines each time until the child understands. And that's how our Heavenly Father is. He is faithful in the ways He humbles us. If He never allowed our hearts to be broken and humbled, we would not know so much of Him. And we live to know Him. Knowing Him is what matters. He uses all things to teach us more and more of Himself. Even though it may wound our pride and make us uncomfortable and angry, it is worth it. Elisabeth Elliot says it very well, "The trial of our faith is a thing more precious than gold."
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