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The following story is from a girl who’s team worked with the same girls I was with last summer. I found that her friendship with one of the women may provide you with a glimpse of what many Indian women face. Note: This type of story is not uncommon.
I wish that I could explain in more than just words how beautiful she is.
I wish that I could scream to her just how much she is loved.
She is worthy, she is WORTH it.
That all her troubles, all of her hardships, all of the issues and problems that never seem to go away are only shaping her to who she is meant to be, and that her life has VALUE.I wish that I could tell her that even though her dad abandoned her, and her mom died, that she is worthy of a family, of a people, that love her.
I pray that she knows just how wide, how deep and how GOOD His love really is. That she can pray all she wants, everyday, in pure dedication, begging to the gods that it wasn't her mom's time to go, that if her mom is not here with her that her life is not worth living. But in the end, all the prayers, blessings, and yearning are nothing but pure air.I want her to know. I want her to know a love that is bigger and better than air, better than life, better than anything that can be described, understood, or even fathomed.
Her name is four beautiful letters. She has a HUGE personality! I mean this girl can put on a show. She is always the loudest, always ready to make a comment. She is outspoken, stubborn, joyful, relational, giving, loyal, a friend, and more than I could ask for. She and I are similar, very similar, (and no, this story won't end with me describing me).
But her story breaks my heart. She has captivated a piece of my heart. She intrigues me, because every time that we sent down to talk, she is intentional. She lets a little bit more of who she is, and part of her story into my life.
So day two of working with these girls, she taught me an Indian dance. This is not exactly a traditional dance, this is like a "I am a 19 year old girl in a Bollywood film" kind of dance. We were laughing and joking around and we were constantly laughing at each other. From this point on, we have been inseparable. This girl has a big attitude, but a lot of love to give. This is what makes her so special to me. She is a fighter, a girl with a dream, a vision. This girl has heart. There are few things that can stand in her way. She has her mind set. She, to me, just keeps going.
About 10 years ago her mom died. Her dad got re-married to another woman and left her alone. Her stepmom didn't want to take care of her, and since she was an only child, it was easier for her dad to just pick up and leave. Since this day, they have not seen each other, or even talked.
She was rejected. Left alone. So she moved in with her auntie and uncle. She has her own room. She is literally on her own. Cooks, cleans, works, everything she must do and provide for herself. She calls herself a burden.
She works at this place called the Soda Shop (which is well known in the area). Works twice a day, except Monday is her holiday. So as she begins to tell me all these things, it seems as though there is something more. Something that she is leaving out.
She walked into stitching class one day and something was off. Something wasn't right. I knew it from the moment that she walked in. Our normal greeting is me yelling her name and her running over to me with a huge smile on her face and she shakes my hand (I always go for the hug, but that never happens in India, so we are working on it). Then we sit next to each other in the circle and instantly start talking about anything of interest that day.
But this day was different. This day she was quiet. She walked in blank stare, sat down, and for a good 10 minutes she said nothing. Nothing. So I walked over to her and sat behind her. I began to ask her about her day and she ignored me. When I finally got a word out of her, she said, "I'm fine teacher, I don't want to talk." So I just sat there in confusion. I began to pray and just ask the Holy Spirit. I asked because I didn't know what else to do.
She began speaking really quickly in Hindi to the stitching teacher, and I kept going back and forth trying to pick up anything that I could in facial expressions to understand the conversation. All I got was that something was terribly wrong. The wind blew from outside and all the sudden the smell of kerosene took over.
That was it. Kerosene.
Kerosene is a big thing here when people try to commit suicide. Suicide, especially in girls here, is incredibly high. At least the attempt. Girls here are viewed as worthless, a burden. Nothing more than a money sucker to the family. Dowry, school, food, clothes, etc. Especially to the lower class.
So the teacher began to tell me what was wrong. I sat right next to her, holding her hand.
That morning she had covered herself in 7 liters of kerosene in attempt to burn herself. That morning her auntie and uncle were fighting more than normal. So she asked why it was so bad today, and they looked at her and said the reason that they were fighting, the reason that they even started fighting from the beginning was because of her. She had become a burden. They didn't ask for her. They just ended up with her, and now she is becoming a problem in their family. They just think it would be better if she wasn't here.
The teacher then explained that her neighbor has smelled the kerosene and ran in to see what was wrong. She found her standing in her room searching for a match. The neighbor took buckets of water and made her completely wash it off. She then just went on about her day.
So we pulled her aside, and began to just ask some more questions and just speak truth to her, allowing the Holy Spirit to connect us with her. She just looked right at me and said, "It would just be better if I wasn't here. I pray all the time to the gods, even your God, asking them why they took my mom away. I don't want to be here without her. It would be better if I wasn't here, because I want to be with her. They never answer. Everyday I go and ask the same questions, and they never answer. Nothing."
This story is real, this woman is not a statistic meant to drown you in guilt about your own life and pity for the lives of others. And she matters just as you matter; to others, to God. The hopelessness that was seen in her is the very same bond that ties down the lives of most Indians. She cannot set herself free, that is obvious. I hope that by reading this, you did not gain new knowledge about the world just to stick the fun facts in your back pocket. I hope you pray for her; pray for India. Specifically, pray that Jesus would become real to these people, exalting them in heaven and casting shame out of their lives.
Many of you are reading this for the very first time and I must say I am overjoyed that you’ve expressed an interest in my calling and have taken the time to seek more information. And it is information that I hope to bring you as you pray and give. Firstly, the most effective way of keeping up with my journey is to receive email updates each time I blog. I promise, you will not receive an obnoxious amount of updates, as I plan to blog only once every week or two. You can subscribe for updates by entering your email address in the box directly under my picture on the left side of this page. These updates will be comprised of blogs I have written, pictures, videos, and other documents I have found beneficial to my daily pursuit of God as well as His pursuit of the people of India. Secondly, if you have found this page in order to give financially, there is really simple process to go through in order to make a contribution. Click on “support me” which is located on the left side of this page. From there, you will be guided through a few steps. I am looking for both monthly supporters and one-time gifts. However, I hope that you will give me the opportunity to talk with you more about India and what ministry could look like there before you give. It would involve you more deeply in what will actually be going on and I would love for you to get to know the people of India better. Please email me at rachaeljhayes@gmail.comand we can set up a time to chat more about this. I’m sincerely excited to see how each of you will become a part of this, so please don’t hesitate to contact me for any reason.
I am so prone to think in big ways, desiring explosive results from the way I live my life, but never matching this desire with action. I sometimes follow a romanticized version of life, imagining a lot of good happening with a lot of Hollywood influence. I want mother Theresa results with my life, a revolution that altars history. So much good couldn’t be so bad, could it? What if I want it only for the sake of the kingdom, for the glory of God to be known? Not a bad motive to the untrained eye. But something is surely wrong. A mass production of good carried to the altar is equal to a mangled goat of Israel given as an offering. Bringing the best was never good enough. It didn’t work for Israel and it surely can’t work for my life. No, there’s grace to be had now. A gift that showers the infested heart and turns it solid gold. I’ve only found myself to be a recipient of this gift, nothing more. There’s nothing particularly interesting, talented, or even good about me. My life is flooded by selfishness, yet I always find myself with a clean heart. And while my mind is mesmerized by this genuine desire to see big things happen in the world in order for people to see Jesus for who he is (that’s good), I fail to produce something real from those desires (not so good). I’m incredibly afraid of failure all of a sudden. Sometimes I’m sure that all I’ve hoped for will be pulled out from under my feet. Assurance is sliding from my grasp now that my desire for India cannot be sustained by mere imagination. It’s not my dream or my vision to be cast, none of this belongs to me. My creepy pretend utopia for my life will never work out. Somewhat because I’m far too lazy to make myself half the woman I want to be, but also just because goodness is never a product of human aspirations. It needs to be known that the only reason this is happening is due to His faithfulness, not my own. I’m in a place where wisdom is telling me “no” and Jesus is insisting, “yes”. But I’m called. Are you hearing me? Called. Not because of skill and definitely not because of boldness, I’m such a coward. I’m not courageous or noble or ambitious. I’m only called. That’s it. That’s all I have. But I believe that the Lord equips the called; that he’s devoted to His vision and not my revolting daydreams of valor and triumph. Thankfully he has a plan that has always promised to be more than I could ask or imagine. His story has unraveled through time as the most famous tale of selfless love that has literally taken up residence in people’s hearts. My mind has been swept away by stories that astonish me, without realizing that the most stunning story in history is what my life has become a part of.
My previous blogging activity was used for the sake of having an outlet into America. It was my chance to allow a glimpse of the milestones in my journey to those who were back home. But now, it just seems so forced. I’m sure I have things to say and I’m sure I will never reach a point where I fail to be flabbergasted by the Spirit but I’m so prone to fabricate my experiences and thoughts that I fear I may deliver my audience something manufactured and edited. And then I have to worry about the fact that people might actually read this, which could potentially lead me to snap into my people-pleasing mode, writing what would sound good or look good to them rather than what is really going on in my soul. This has been the little war going on inside of me as I’ve been successfully neglecting my blogging responsibilities. Perhaps you were looking for something more challenging or convicting, but this is what’s real and das wassup.
I was never given a direct answer, an epiphany, or a moment of clarity; nor have i sought such things. In my pursuit of knowing the heart of God, I have been led into a very new season of life. I am knit together for what is ahead of me and though it is undoubtedly frightening and unusual, it is precisely what i am purposed to do. In october, i will move to Gainesville, GA to be a part of a new initiative set forth by Adventures in Missions (AIM) to make a more permanent stay around the world. My team and I have been put together for the nation of India. After spending six months in georgia developing our values, discovering the vision for our ministry, and working out the endless logistics of the project, we will move to Mumbai, India to learn underneath those who are already doing ministry there in order to form a new base for AIM. This ministry will seek to serve the poor, focusing on the world of prositution and children living on the streets. As of right now, we have no clue what that will look like, but God certainly has a vision far beyond what we can ask or think.
I'm doing this because i'm disgusted with the thought of millions of empty bellies and hearts. India is the place where my gifts come alive, it holds the people who have forever altered my position before God. Jesus has called me out of the shadows of my mediocre dreams and has told me to go to the poor. I beleive that Christ wants to see the impoverished rise up as warriors for the kingdom, strong and unfaltering in their love. I can only hope to be a part of what he has purposed for people who matter so much to him.
As i walk through this journey, i am required to blog often, so this site will become my main vehicle for communicating with friends, family, and supporters (especially when we get to india). As of now, i am at home in Destin, FL preparing for this new season and beginning to fundraise. This blog will hopefully soon be full of my challenges, frustrations, and moments of rejoicing as i am being refined day by day. I have uploaded my previous blogs from my last summer in India, so feel free to check those out as well. You can also subscribe to these blogs if you wish to keep up with my journey by submitting your email adress above and i will try to make your reading worthwhile. More is coming soon!
I was good and ready to come home from India. I was prepared to see materialism at its finest and knew what I was walking into. But something hit me when we landed in America and I felt further away from home than I’d felt the whole time we were in India. I wanted to go back so badly and every step away from that plane felt like a step away from the residence of my own heart. I decided that talking about India even under the influence of being socially awkward would be the best way to glide back into American culture. The more I wanted to talk, the more people did not want to listen. And the people who did listen were only waiting for the moment when they could rattle off a handful of statistics about Hinduism or trafficking or India as a whole. I forgot how much Americans pride in their knowledge. But what these people don’t know is that India has a face and hands and dirty fingernails. She has a family and cooking skills, and a laugh. I don’t simply know sad and true things about India, but I touched them, held them, smelled them, cried with them, and lived with them. Trafficking was in the next flat over and Hinduism was sitting next to me on the bus. So I would patiently listen to these meaningless fun facts that were supposed to make me feel bad for people when I really just wanted to see, hear, feel, and smell India again all at the same time. I knew that people would not understand, but I thought that they might want to.
One of the most popular comments that I get is “you will never forget that experience”. Perhaps this is true. I may not forget people’s names or the places we visited or even the scandal of Frenchie underwear ads. But I never want to forget the way I felt, the way it felt to be there. Everything I own smells clean and good again; I can’t remember the way it smelled and that scares me. I never want to forget how it felt to have sticky little fingers reach up to grab my face and grin a rotted smile. I want to remember what it was like to touch the beggars and how much fun it was to have ten little bodies crammed against me under my umbrella. I wanted to feel the rain again and have dirty feet. In fact, I began to need India.
When we landed in Bangalore, I remember looking out the plane window and seeing temples spread throughout the city. People told me that I would feel the spiritual warfare as soon as I stepped off the plane, but I did not feel the warfare as expected. It was much more tangible and physical than an internal discernment for me. I could see the enemy and it was so curious to me that he would move in such an obvious way. You could point at a building and say, “that’s a temple”. You could look at the windshield of a bus and say “that’s an idol” or look at the creepy little blue people and say “that’s a god”. It was so simple to know the difference between good and evil. I could point to sin and stare it straight in the face at the same time. When we were landing in Atlanta, God spoke to me. He took my mind to when I saw all of those temples in Bangalore and said to me “look at all of those temples”. The image of a teered building dressed with gods popped into my head alongside the image of a mall—the images were identical. I saw ganesh next to a Mercedes—they matched too. The warfare in America is just as harmful as it is in India, but its not a battle against metal characters, but against the poison that resides underneath our radars. What I mean is that malls aren’t always temples and a Mercedes isn’t always a god. The idols in my life don’t show up as little blue people and the temple I visit doesn’t look like a rainbow funhouse. Everything is so secret, so hidden, so poisonous. In fact, there are surely churches that are temples. This reality scares me. I want my sin to be revealed to me as tangibly as gods appeared in India. It’s harder to see my sin here because it isn’t as obvious as a blue/gold statue.
I miss it.
A few of us got the opportunity to go to Mumbai last weekend and after a 12 hour train, sight seeing at 4:30 a.m., and joining a senior citizen's laughing club on the street , i was finally in the place i have been praying for. I came on this trip prepared to be with commercial sex workers in the red light districts. But for the past 6 weeks i have been a preschool teacher and have been hangin in the slums every day. When we began working in Mumbai, i was face to face with the human trafficking business just as i had hoped for. I was walking down a street full of women who were waiting in their doorways for business. I played with children who were dropped of at a center when their mothers were preparing for their night. I was literally steps away from the injustice that brought me to this place we like to call India. I was in a shelter full of girls who have been handed over by their mothers because they are incapable to take care of them while taking part in prostitution. And as i found myself in the midst of this environment, there was nothing i could do about the things going on around me. I was there for a short three days and could not begin relationships with any of the prostitutes or with their kids. It would cause more harm than good for me to drag the women out of their situation and begin a place of refuge for them. I could not destroy the entire business of human trafficking in one swipe simply because it angered me. And so the world continued to spin in the same way it always has. The men were still indulging in the desires of their flesh and fueling this business. The women still feel powerless and are bound to the commands of their madames and pimps. There are still children who are headed for a dingy future and have no promise for a way out of their parents' lives. But the problem is that i raised $5000.00 to be here and take part in God's destructon of this evil. I have come halfway around the world in order for things to change here. And i have been praying for the moments when i would be able to use my hands and feet for the sake of the love of God reaching these people. But faithfulness is not found in my own desires, but in the moments where i find myself in the midst of the will of God. And regardless of everything that needs to be done in Mumbai and besides all the pain and affliction going on in my heart by being in that place, God has shown me one immovable hope: himself. God sees all the darkness in that place 24/7 and stil has the whole world in his hands.
Disney is rumored to have created the happiest place on earth but if they have convinced you that their clever combination of thrilling rides, classic characters, and life-changing attractions provides the most joy one could know, then you are surely brainwashed. I say this because there is a community of about 50 disabled people between the ages of 16 and 20 who have received a manifestation of the joy of the Lord in a most pure way. The fellowship they take part in is located in Dharavi, Mumbai which is the largest slum in Asia and is where Slumdog Millionaire was filmed. To paint a better picture: this slum is home to 10 million of the 18 million people who live in the city of Mumbai. And amongst the very tangible darkness in that place, these people are carriers of the undeniable light of Jesus. Some of them cannot hear a thing, but can move to the best silent beat i've ever heard and those who have limp limbs are possibly the most entertaining actors i have ever seen. I spent most of my time with little Vivek who won't talk and is too weak to take part in normal childish fun, but has the most beautiful gift of laughter. All the kids are loved the same and no person is left out. Not one was lurking in a corner alone and there was no trace of exclusion anywhere because love was truely in abundance. The older kids look after the younger and genuinely care for them. There is never an awkward moment or any vibes of discomfort in their fellowship. In a split second they could make the loneiest and most unloved person feel on top of the world. But spending time with them would never clue you in on the amount of persecution they face daily. Somehow all of these good and wholesome things can be so true regardless of the underlying reality of their hardship. Most of them have been rejected by their families because they are shameful and have proven to hold no worth. To be born a healthy girl is a curse, so the disabled females are on the same level as garbage. Education for them is near impossible. They are a liability and a curse, definately not a gift. But they have something more precious and more powerful than i do. They take part in something more wholesome and more genuine than i ever have because they've already been set apart from the rest of the world. They are already outcaste and that is why they can have such a beautiful fellowship with the Lord. This is the beauty that god has called us to when he commands that we take up our crosses, being crucified daily. He doesn't merely tell us to give up worldliness for the sake of surrender--he has something greater for us. But God cannot give us anything wholesome and and pure when we are clenching the world between our fists. We must loosen our grip on what is known and comfortable in order for God to gift us with himself. That is why these kids know the secret to true life more than any of us do. Because their world has already crucified them. They are already thrown out of the city gates. And so with nothing to lose, they can enter in to true life, true fellowship with the father--unstained from the world.
I saw her and immediately knew to hold her. Barely one year old, she was clad in a battered white tank top littered with holes. As i situated her squishy brown body on one hip, i discovered a new part of my life. In that moment, i tapped into an inch of who a woman of God is. Noisy kids began to spill into the small room where we conduct a nutrition program in one of the nearby slums and she became shy, burying her tired head in my shoulder. She used me as her refuge and i felt it was my duty to protect her, pray life over her, and love her without condition. Honestly, i have never loved an infant so much in my life. But taking part in that moment taught me something greater than loving a child. Holding her taught me more about who a woman of God is. I could rattle off a description of a man of God before i could guess at who the Lord would have me be as a woman. But as i held that baby girl, i became aware of what composes a woman after God's heart. Being in a constant heart of worship, she labors with a pure heart. The Lord treasures this purity in her and uses this to make her into a warrior for his kingdom. She fights evil with faithfulness and honesty. Her loyalty refines her and gives her wisdom. The Lord has anointed her to be a carrier of his enduring love that conquers fears and the many pains of this world. The woman who follows Jesus treats every person as her own child and sees everyone as i saw that baby girl--something worth fighting for.
