Ravi woke early, concealed under the hedgerow behind the dump. He had a mission today and gave himself a pep talk as he walked to Mr. Shah’s house. You can do this. You must do this. His heart pounded from his hiding place behind the neighbor’s flowering bougainvillea. It was all he could do to stay.
At around 8:00 A.M., Mr. Shah backed out of the driveway in his green car. Ravi could see a small figure in the passenger side, but he couldn’t get a good glimpse. The car went down the street three blocks and turned right. Ravi waited. In about ten minutes, Mr. Shah was back, alone. He parked the old green car with the cracked windshield, climbed in his black Mercedes, and left.
Ravi waited another five minutes and then walked the three blocks and turned right. In ten minutes he saw the shopping center. There on the sidewalk was Sammy, the limping orphan with the missing front teeth. Sammy recognized Ravi from the day he was at the dump.
“I can help you escape. Mr. Shah’s a bad man. I can feed you if you come with me now.”
Sammy considered the invitation. Mr. Shah’s really mean, and I’m really hungry.
“If you stay, he will hurt you.” Sammy’s eyes widened.
“He cut off Kumar’s arm, he did!” And with that, Sammy followed Ravi back to the alley.
“We will get fed if we stay here. You can’t be seen at the dump because Mr. Shah will come looking for you.” The young boy nodded, his eyes wide.
Sammy explained how Mr. Shah had offered him a bag of sweets one day, and the next morning he was out begging.
“When he got me yesterday, he was mad. He threw me in the shed. There was a boy blind in one eye, a girl without a hand, a boy with one arm, and a boy without a foot. He leans on a tree branch to walk. Mr. Shah yelled, hit me, and beat me with a rope. I’m hungry.
“The next morning, Mr. Shah gave me a piece of bread and sent me back to beg. He yelled again. That day I made more money, but not enough.
“He hit me with his fists. He didn’t feed me. I am very hungry.”
Ravi nodded. “I stayed one night, and the first day he put me on the street, a voice told me to leave.”
The two orphans chatted a little.
“Raavv-i,” came Julie’s sing-song voice.
“Fast, fast, lie down and pretend to be asleep.” Sammy looked confused, but followed Ravi’s lead.
When Julie rounded the corner, she was surprised to see two “sleeping” boys. When she pulled sandwiches from the sack, they simultaneously “awoke.” Sammy was not afraid of her like Ravi; he stood and eagerly reached for his sandwich, apple, and box of juice.
Ravi was proud of himself and a little more confident today. He looked at Julie like he might receive a special reward for his bravery.
She frowned. “Ravi, why did you take this boy from the dump? You both need to come back where I can keep a better eye on you.” Ravi’s countenance dropped, but Julie failed to notice.
Following the Lord’s orders from yesterday, Julie talked while Ravi and Sammy ate.
Julie,” she pointed at herself and then looked at Sammy.
“Sammy.”
“Sammy, that’s a nice name. I remember seeing you at the dump. You need to come back. Don’t let Ravi persuade you to live in an alley. It makes it so hard on me.”
When the boys were done eating, Julie held up the empty sack, and Ravi stared at it with an annoyed look. She motioned several times for him to pick up his trash, but he didn’t. Finally she picked up both boys’ trash and commented, “Well, someone isn’t in a good mood today.” She stood and held Sammy’s hand.
“Come on, Sammy. If you come back to the dump, maybe Ravi will follow. Let’s go.”
Ravi jumped up and grabbed Sammy’s other hand.
“No, don’t go. Mr Shah will come and get you. He’ll put you back on the street again. Stay here where you’re safe.” Sammy pulled his hand from Julie’s and took a few steps backward.
“Sammy, it’s really OK. Trust me. You can both come to the dump.” Sammy took a few steps further back until he was standing next to Ravi, clutching him.
“Oh fine, do what you want! Just be careful. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Julie exited the alley, wondering what Ravi had told Sammy to convince him to leave the dump and live in the alley. After failing to come up with a plausible idea, she decided to go back to the shopping district and buy some new clothes. I am a disgusting mess. I stink. She gave her armpits a wave. “My dress is torn and worse…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the large discolored urine spot. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Uggh, so greasy. I wonder where I could take a bath? I’d pay any price.”
As she walked, she remembered the year her church had volunteered to work at a homeless shelter in another town. Julie had gone once. Some volunteered in the kitchen and others conversed with the homeless. Julie had made a direct line for the kitchen and stayed there until the bus was loading to go.
When she served mashed potatoes on the line and handed the plates to the homeless, she tried to force a smile, but was mostly disgusted. Why don’t these people take care of themselves? Why do the tax dollars of hardworking Americans go to feed their drug habits?
Now she walked the street self-consciously. Who’s looking at me? What are they thinking? She slunk off to the dirt where the sidewalk ended, and sat, more like collapsed, and leaned against a tree. She studied the stains, snags, and rips on her dress and the dirt in the creases of her elbows. Her sandals were not only dusty, but also were stained—with what she didn’t even want to know. Her beautifully manicured toes, in the perfect color of pink, were covered in dirt and chipped polish. She held out her hands and really looked at her fingernails. Disgusting. She turned them over. Uchh, dirt.
She sobbed, but wouldn’t put her face in her hands because they were so dirty. She felt sorry for herself and sunk neck high into self-pity. “Why did You pick me to transport to India to live in squalid, disease-ridden conditions? I bring nothing to the table but inexperience and incompetence. Find a social worker and bring her here.” She felt in her purse for a tissue and then sobbed again.
Julie, it was the Lord’s voice, but she was not necessarily eager to hear it. My word says that My power shows up best in weakness.1 You are correct; you need to lean on Me to succeed. By yourself you can produce nothing of value.2 Trust Me, trust My Word, trust My instructions, and it will be well for the orphans and especially for you. If you hadn’t realized it, this trip was not just about changing their lives, but also changing yours.
“Jesus, if You send me back, I swear I’ll volunteer at the homeless shelter— every week. Twice a week. I know now that, given lousy circumstances, almost anyone can end up homeless. I’m sorry I made the comment about them living off our taxes. I’m sorry for everything; just please send me back.” She exhaled deeply. “I’ll even tithe. I’ll work there twice a week. I realize now I had a horrible attitude toward the poor, but I’ve learned my lesson, really. I can do much more good back home where I have a lot of money and I can speak the language. I’m a changed woman, really.” But somehow she knew the Lord wasn’t buying it.
There was only one thing to do. She marched directly to the grocery store and picked up a six-pack of cola, a chocolate cake with white icing, and a quart of vanilla ice cream. On the way to the checkout, Julie grabbed a candy bar. There was a glossy Indian fashion magazine featuring a dark, stunning woman in a plunging skin-tight outfit on the front. Let’s see what passes for fashion here.
She marched with her sack into the nearest restaurant. Out came the hand sanitizer, slathered to her elbows. She pointed indiscriminately to the menu. The waiter brought a heaping plate. She unpacked her food on the table, scraped the plate’s contents into her sack, and wiped the plate clean with a napkin. She scooped up half the cake and put it on her plate. Now for the ice cream on top. The sound of the popped top on the cola can had her nearly salivating. She scooped up a huge bite of cake with ice cream.
Slow down, Julie, no one’s going to take it away. Ummm, oh, so long without good food. So long without a soft drink. She savored each bite, then opened the magazine.
To Julie’s surprise, everything was definitely up to date in India’s fashion world. By the looks of this magazine, India’s answer to Hollywood—Bollywood—was in full swing. These fashions are different, but totally gorgeous. These fabrics are luscious. They drape so beautifully. Oh, the bright colors. She turned the page. Six inches of bangles and stiletto heels—very stylish. Paris has nothing on them.
Julie took a deep drink of her soda and let out a sigh. Where are these stores? Not around here. She continued looking from picture to picture, wishing she could read the text. Fashion and food were doing their job—temporarily numbing her pain.
Julie could picture herself in the model’s yellow dress with the draped neckline and slit skirt. Layers of silk wafted in the breeze from the fan that was obviously out of photo range. The stiletto heels featured beautiful embroidery. These are the prettiest shoes I think I’ve ever seen. The matching necklace, bracelet, and earrings of emerald and yellow stones stirred a longing in Julie, which she met by eating more cake, ice cream, and soda.
By the time Julie turned the last page, she had forgotten that she looked like, and was, in fact—a homeless person. On the back cover was a large picture of a glistening perfume bottle. She was jerked back into reality by the smell of her own body odor and the uncomfortable sugar-sick feeling.
She stared at the cake. It was three quarters gone, ditto the ice cream. Candy bar, eaten. Uggh. I need a glass of milk. She signaled to the waiter and milked unseen utters in the air. He looked confused. No one else was drinking milk, and there weren’t little containers of cream on the table. “Oh, never mind,” Julie dismissed the waiter with a wave of her hand.
She finished her soda, grabbed the three remaining cans and her magazine. They can have the cake. She turned and left.
That evening in her bushes, she was in great discomfort.
“Urrgh, I don’t care if I never see sugar again. Why’d I do that?” Julie massaged her forehead. “Must keep this migraine away.” After looking through the magazine several more times, it now bored her. She toyed with trying to find a phone and beg Michael to get her on the next flight out.
Julie escaped into a fantasy of being back home and hosting an elaborate Indian-themed dinner party. She fairly floated across the floor wearing the yellow dress with the embroidered stiletto heels and matching jewelry. All her friends were dressed up, too, but no one was as elegant as she.
“Yes, I picked this up on my trip to India. It’s the latest fashion right from Bollywood.” She served Americanized Indian food on the new set of stoneware, in wonderful cardamon and curry colors. Everyone raved. The evening was a smashing success and when everyone was gone, Michael swept her up in his arms.
“You look so beautiful tonight, dear. You make this outfit live. It shimmers with your every move. But…why do you smell so bad?”
Suddenly she transformed back to the dirty, smelly, greasy-haired woman lying in the dirt, still a mess, but now she was a mess with a stomachache.
“Lord, I’m so miserable. I’m stuffed, and I’m sugar sick. I feel even worse than I did before I bought all that stuff.”
It’s a valuable lesson to learn, Julie. Next time you won’t even have to go down that path.
“I wish I hadn’t gone down it now.”
There is a God-given desire for perfection that I have put in every human heart. It’s a foreshadowing of what’s coming in eternity. That’s why seeking perfection in this imperfect world, filled with imperfect people, never works. True satisfaction will not be found in people, things, accomplishments, money, or acceptance. Striving after these things to fill you is idolatry. And as you can see, it extracts a price. I alone can truly satisfy you. Learn to stop striving and rest in Me. Read your next Scripture,
Isaiah 55:1-3.
Julie flipped through the New Testament.
Old Testament, page 963.
Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat. Yes, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend money for what is not bread, and your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, and let your soul delight itself in abundance. Incline your ear, and come to Me. Hear, and your soul shall live….3
She pondered for a few seconds. “Wow, now You’re getting personal. Do me a favor, Lord. Help me to remember how incredibly lousy I feel now the next time I’m tempted.”