"I'd rather be the poorest Jesus follower than the richest follower of anything else."
Two things ring true about the current state of my life: I'm so proud of my kids. Moreover, we're poor. In fact we're so poor that the boys' joke is that they have no blanket to sleep or "food to eat rice." It's literally said like that in a variety of ways.
I mean we really are poor. We have these rare things called chairs here that go missing like chameleons in a forest. It seems like we only have 10. In fact today I spent 10 min of class in search for chairs to sit on for me and my students. Earlier in the day, I didn't have a seat to sit on in my own room cause I loaned it to my kids for class. This is just one example of the daily struggle.
Considering this, it's wild that we recently started a choir. The kids are remarkably good to not know music or have ever been in a choir before. Like they are really good. We've been learning a song called Gentle Voice.
So nice.
We are actually good enough that we volunteered ourselves to sing in the city church for their conference they were having. Humility, I know. The kids are a little uneasy about the event but as the days are drawing nearer, they are actually getting excited.
Tonight we sung for vespers. Sounded Paká. And that's all it took. The kids seemed to be a little more ready. Ella made the comment that the boys should all wear belts, at least, for the performance we were having at church.
I laughed and said, "ha! We're so poor we don't have blanket to sleep. You think the boys have belts?!"
Truth being told, I had been asking the boys about belts since I got here. Then I discovered that they only had two underwear, which pretty much brought me to tears. In fact, as a whole, the boys don't have a whole lot. Most of the kids don't have much.
I kinda see the choir as one of those underdog movies waiting to be directed. You know, the one where some poor jungle kids get a choir director from America who believes in them. The kids are so poor all they eat is rice and potato for every meal. The don't have blankets to sleep or belts to wear or ties to look nice. They don't read music and have never sung in a choir before. They aren't really good at listening either. However, the determined director and the helping staff believe in them and they work and work and work and make their way to the top, facing many difficulties in the journey, like not being able to make it to a performance because it would have cost them their lives to drive the treacherous road; or meeting a bad guy who's sole purpose is to destroy the group. And at some point all hope would be lost and the movie would be terrible if they didn't come out on top and win the championship singing competition
As an Adventist Indian movie though, the actors and actresses would be very modest and there would be many allusions to Ellen white and maybe some really sketchy rhythmic movement that wouldn't be called dancing. All that jazz. As well, Doug Batchelor or Dwight Nelson would have to make a guest appearance.
Sigh...
However, even with all this, my kids are rich. They are rich in Jesus. Some of these kids are serious in their little minds about the work they want to do for Christ. As well, they reflect Christ in their actions, thoughts, and conduct. It's insightful and warming. Some of them help me want to be a better Christian just because of the way they reflect Christ: him increasing and then decreasing.
And so I think to myself, am I poor here or in the States? When I get to America I will come back to the land of expensive plenty. But even though I will come back dirt broke and probably be living in a box next to a chipotle and ice cream shop, will I be rich?
Will I be rich in Christ?
Are you/me/we rich in Jesus?
Does his mercy pour from our lips when dealing with those who don't deserve?
Is forgiveness given freely to those who have hurt us brutally?
Is godly Love (for God is love) being expressed to every blessed man, woman and child that we contact?
Are we slightly rich or just a little blessed with Jesus. If he's not our everything, well then we need to rethink where we are. Our time is short, so why waste it?
So no matter what, consider greatly who you're following (your riches and wealth) especially since being the richest Jesus follower is much better than being the richest man of anything else.
Anything more?
Not really?
Hallelu
Kameron Carter
Monday, August 31, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Will I Make It?
"You never know what you truly had til it's gone" - adjusted from the words of my mother.
The kids are a lot. I mean a lot. I can't really explain it. They can just be so much of a joy and so much of a leech sucking all my energy away.
They make me laugh so hard, question who taught them their English, make me cry when I think about leaving them, make me frustrated to no end, and give me such joy that I can't explain.
My boys can be the most active at night right before bed. Getting them to bed is like fighting a hungry bear with a plastic spoon from Taco Bell, blind. Imagine 10, 15-22 year olds all trying to talk to you, all telling you jokes, all telling you stories, all talking over each other, yelling your name, pointing lights in your face, then getting mad when you're not listening. It's one of those culture things.
Just now, that happened. It was me trying to hear all the stories, and save my eyes from the lights, and pay full attention to all of them at once, and laugh, and make comments, all with them breathing down my neck.
It's often overwhelming. But somehow I get through. At times they tend to drive me up the wall and back.
But then I think, who is going to do this to me in Dec? Who will play the boys their bedtime stories because lets face it, we all like bedtime stories no matter how old we are. Who will work out with them, remind them that we have high standards as men of God, that they can't do the honeymoon before marriage, that I won't allow them to marry just any Babylonian woman or Jezebel, as we say here-- in the words of Sir Kam, "she better love The Lord, read her bible, Ellen white, and work with you to get this final message to the world." Who will put his foot in their throats when they step out of line because I don't believe in blatant foolishness. What will happen when I don't have Muthu constantly walking in and out of my room yelling my name, normally just to see what I'm doing, check on me, or ask me if he looks cool/pretty? What will happen when Timrei doesn't give me his normal good morning head nod and salute, or ask me if I have any chips? Will it be the same without Mama being so cunning, or Blessingson yelling my name and smiling from ear to ear when he sees me only one hour after previously seeing me? What about Roben always working out and talking about his muscles or Silas acting with his "I do what I want" personality? What about Robert and his Justin Beiber hair styles and comments like "I don't work out" when he's the fittest guy here? Who will translate all the boys' Indian English like Cornel. More like, who will talk Indian English only?
If the girls aren't around, who will consistently be sooo bad and act like the girls from Mean Girls, but not actually mean it? Or what about the 3 friends (Indian version) Juba, Tumpa, and Bimola? The ones who have the most distinctive laughs and always are together. They also cause the most trouble. But they love me to eat with them. Who will do that? Who will be the Eunice and find the joy out of talking all the time and simply being obnoxious? With no Elina, Kristina, Ruth, and Rumila, who will be my quiet gentle souls?
And most importantly, who is going to consistently be rude and call my name louder and louder until I acknowledge them although I'm CLEARLY talking to someone else? They ALL do that. It's a culture thing.
This is my life. And has been for the past 6 months today. Wow, 6 months... It doesn't feel like that at all. I remember much of life before India as if it was yesterday. I can kinda follow in my head my journey here. From the awkwardness of the first day and the swarm of languages to the simple sporadic electricity and cold water bucket baths outside (I have come to really enjoy the simplicity, freedom, and money saving principles of the cold water bucket shower. It shall be continued in later life)
Before it was foreign, but now, as Timrei says, "this is lifestyle."
Will I be able to make it when this lifestyle is over and return to the one in America where as a whole, people seem a little colder in personality, a little more about self and less about Jesus. Where the problems involve not being able to connect to the wifi at a store and the Starbucks running out of someone's favorite drink, and being frustrated because one can't figure out which of their 60 pairs of shoes will match this outfit perfectly.
Versus the boys not having time in the day to wash all their clothes by hand and therefore running out of their 3 underwear, one of which I bought simply because I. Just. Couldn't... Or trying to survive on a balanced diet that includes white rice and potatoes for at least two meals of every day, lacking real veggies and fruit. Or running out of drinking water and washing water on the daily and hoping and praying the pipe isn't broken again.
That's the lifestyle that will soon be over that I'm not sure I can give up. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to eat some of the food I haven't had in awhile like Nutella and chipotle and ice cream. Besides that, I'm doing fine. Some small things may be falling apart at home, but I pray on the daily that God will take care of them. I think he is.
This is my lifestyle. And how will I make it without eating with my hands in a place that is completely acceptable. What about the villagers? What about their health that I question on the daily.
What about my kids? That's the real question. My now 26 kids.
My kids.
My kids.
Not ready to leave them, potentially for the first and the last time...
If we could but turn back the time
And still...
Bless
Kameron Carter
The kids are a lot. I mean a lot. I can't really explain it. They can just be so much of a joy and so much of a leech sucking all my energy away.
They make me laugh so hard, question who taught them their English, make me cry when I think about leaving them, make me frustrated to no end, and give me such joy that I can't explain.
My boys can be the most active at night right before bed. Getting them to bed is like fighting a hungry bear with a plastic spoon from Taco Bell, blind. Imagine 10, 15-22 year olds all trying to talk to you, all telling you jokes, all telling you stories, all talking over each other, yelling your name, pointing lights in your face, then getting mad when you're not listening. It's one of those culture things.
Just now, that happened. It was me trying to hear all the stories, and save my eyes from the lights, and pay full attention to all of them at once, and laugh, and make comments, all with them breathing down my neck.
It's often overwhelming. But somehow I get through. At times they tend to drive me up the wall and back.
But then I think, who is going to do this to me in Dec? Who will play the boys their bedtime stories because lets face it, we all like bedtime stories no matter how old we are. Who will work out with them, remind them that we have high standards as men of God, that they can't do the honeymoon before marriage, that I won't allow them to marry just any Babylonian woman or Jezebel, as we say here-- in the words of Sir Kam, "she better love The Lord, read her bible, Ellen white, and work with you to get this final message to the world." Who will put his foot in their throats when they step out of line because I don't believe in blatant foolishness. What will happen when I don't have Muthu constantly walking in and out of my room yelling my name, normally just to see what I'm doing, check on me, or ask me if he looks cool/pretty? What will happen when Timrei doesn't give me his normal good morning head nod and salute, or ask me if I have any chips? Will it be the same without Mama being so cunning, or Blessingson yelling my name and smiling from ear to ear when he sees me only one hour after previously seeing me? What about Roben always working out and talking about his muscles or Silas acting with his "I do what I want" personality? What about Robert and his Justin Beiber hair styles and comments like "I don't work out" when he's the fittest guy here? Who will translate all the boys' Indian English like Cornel. More like, who will talk Indian English only?
If the girls aren't around, who will consistently be sooo bad and act like the girls from Mean Girls, but not actually mean it? Or what about the 3 friends (Indian version) Juba, Tumpa, and Bimola? The ones who have the most distinctive laughs and always are together. They also cause the most trouble. But they love me to eat with them. Who will do that? Who will be the Eunice and find the joy out of talking all the time and simply being obnoxious? With no Elina, Kristina, Ruth, and Rumila, who will be my quiet gentle souls?
And most importantly, who is going to consistently be rude and call my name louder and louder until I acknowledge them although I'm CLEARLY talking to someone else? They ALL do that. It's a culture thing.
This is my life. And has been for the past 6 months today. Wow, 6 months... It doesn't feel like that at all. I remember much of life before India as if it was yesterday. I can kinda follow in my head my journey here. From the awkwardness of the first day and the swarm of languages to the simple sporadic electricity and cold water bucket baths outside (I have come to really enjoy the simplicity, freedom, and money saving principles of the cold water bucket shower. It shall be continued in later life)
Before it was foreign, but now, as Timrei says, "this is lifestyle."
Will I be able to make it when this lifestyle is over and return to the one in America where as a whole, people seem a little colder in personality, a little more about self and less about Jesus. Where the problems involve not being able to connect to the wifi at a store and the Starbucks running out of someone's favorite drink, and being frustrated because one can't figure out which of their 60 pairs of shoes will match this outfit perfectly.
Versus the boys not having time in the day to wash all their clothes by hand and therefore running out of their 3 underwear, one of which I bought simply because I. Just. Couldn't... Or trying to survive on a balanced diet that includes white rice and potatoes for at least two meals of every day, lacking real veggies and fruit. Or running out of drinking water and washing water on the daily and hoping and praying the pipe isn't broken again.
That's the lifestyle that will soon be over that I'm not sure I can give up. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to eat some of the food I haven't had in awhile like Nutella and chipotle and ice cream. Besides that, I'm doing fine. Some small things may be falling apart at home, but I pray on the daily that God will take care of them. I think he is.
This is my lifestyle. And how will I make it without eating with my hands in a place that is completely acceptable. What about the villagers? What about their health that I question on the daily.
What about my kids? That's the real question. My now 26 kids.
My kids.
My kids.
Not ready to leave them, potentially for the first and the last time...
If we could but turn back the time
And still...
Bless
Kameron Carter
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Mistaken for Jesus
"I want you to really consider this question and answer in your heart of hearts. How often are you mistaken for Jesus?" - Ella Tenold
It's very easy to get caught up in the day by day activities and responsibilities here on the Springs of Love campus. Teach some classes, help some patients, make meals, grade papers, be the official unofficial boys dean, spending time with my kids, all the things.
We can get so caught up in it all that we forget what was our appearance in it all. What did we say? How did we carry ourselves? Did we reflect Jesus?
When I go to the villages, I try to make an effort, if I remember, to pray with all of my patients. To be quite honest, I have learned to not have faith in the medicines I give or the things I tell the patients to do and so on. I'm simply just a 22 year old AS level graduate nurse who decided to practice nursing right outside of college in an Indian jungle instead of getting experience at an American hospital.
And it's times when I realize and remember this that I am reminded how much I need to rely on God for everything nursing wise (and life). God is the one who heals the patients when their hospital medicines aren't working and the patients have lost hope. He is the one who gives me instruction on what to give the patient when I have no idea what disease has befallen him. He is the one who gives them total healing and helps them get about their daily lives.
And I wonder in it all, do they see Jesus as this 6 foot tall black man walks out of their terribly small house?
Do they see a sacrifice even remotely similar to His sacrifice for you and me?
Do they see selflessness in my actions and kindness in my words and mercy in my body language?
Do they see a smile glistening from my face and my presence?
Do they say, "Have you met that Jesus man who walks around the village, healing and praying with people?" to others as they pass by?
The word says in John 3:30 that "I must decrease and He must increase." I sometimes wonder if that means that people will mistake us Christ loving, people loving individuals as little Jesus' more and more.
More and more.
Think about it. Pray about it.
I am.
And finally, "think, when was the last time you were mistaken for Jesus?" -Ella Tenold.
Albza
It's very easy to get caught up in the day by day activities and responsibilities here on the Springs of Love campus. Teach some classes, help some patients, make meals, grade papers, be the official unofficial boys dean, spending time with my kids, all the things.
We can get so caught up in it all that we forget what was our appearance in it all. What did we say? How did we carry ourselves? Did we reflect Jesus?
When I go to the villages, I try to make an effort, if I remember, to pray with all of my patients. To be quite honest, I have learned to not have faith in the medicines I give or the things I tell the patients to do and so on. I'm simply just a 22 year old AS level graduate nurse who decided to practice nursing right outside of college in an Indian jungle instead of getting experience at an American hospital.
And it's times when I realize and remember this that I am reminded how much I need to rely on God for everything nursing wise (and life). God is the one who heals the patients when their hospital medicines aren't working and the patients have lost hope. He is the one who gives me instruction on what to give the patient when I have no idea what disease has befallen him. He is the one who gives them total healing and helps them get about their daily lives.
And I wonder in it all, do they see Jesus as this 6 foot tall black man walks out of their terribly small house?
Do they see a sacrifice even remotely similar to His sacrifice for you and me?
Do they see selflessness in my actions and kindness in my words and mercy in my body language?
Do they see a smile glistening from my face and my presence?
Do they say, "Have you met that Jesus man who walks around the village, healing and praying with people?" to others as they pass by?
The word says in John 3:30 that "I must decrease and He must increase." I sometimes wonder if that means that people will mistake us Christ loving, people loving individuals as little Jesus' more and more.
More and more.
Think about it. Pray about it.
I am.
And finally, "think, when was the last time you were mistaken for Jesus?" -Ella Tenold.
Albza
Thursday, August 6, 2015
When the Cows Come Home
"Parents get pretty excited about their kids coming home after a long time; now imagine how happy God will be when His children finally make it Home."
I've counted, and I officially have 24 children here in India. I think I'll take the time to list them all for you:
Cornel, Roben, Mithun, Sunita, Juba, Asana, Tumpa, Bimola, Themyaophy, Eunice, Chandramoni, Kristina, Ruth, Rumila, Webuilui, Elina, Blessingson, Timrei, Hasina, Grace, Muthu, Silas, Robert, and Suban.
They come and go sometimes, to travel, to take care of business, to change schools, and the like. We haven't all been together for awhile and my heart yearned for that reunion for months. And then it came.
Robert returned after a 3+ month hiatus away from the school to try out a different school. He kinda just left and never came back (or so we thought). That happens. Hasina returned from Kolkata and didn't get married like I told her not to. That also happens often. And my oldest, Suban, who I love so much came back from his work. He's pretty much the boss.
My heart was filled with joy to see them all here. Even though hugs aren't very acceptable in this culture, I've earned enough trust and respect with the guys to hug them. At first it was awkward; but now I just go for it. They don't seem to mind anymore.
And so we're back together.
For another 3 months and 21 days. Or at least that's the approximate time frame.
I'm not sure how this latter "almost" four months will lass. I'm not sure how many more times I'll get upset about having to leave. I don't know how many times I will threaten to never return to my family. I don't know how much more I will procrastinate in taking this class at my college and risk failing the class all together. I'm not sure how many more times my kids will make me upset, or happy, or make me laugh. I'm not sure how many more memories will be made, how much garo will be learned, or how many villagers will try and marry me off.
All this gets me to thinking about God's children, His redeemed, those who choose Him. A quote by Ellen White states that "Christ is waiting with longing desire for the manifestation or himself in his church. When the character of Christ shall be perfectly reproduced in His people, then He will come to claim them as His own."
Christ wants us home pretty bad. Really bad. I don't think we can even imagine. This is more than just a longing that that one boy had for Shadow to come home in Homeward Bound. This isn't even the same longing that a wife has for her husband in military service who has been gone the duration of her pregnancy (and he will soon meet his child for the first time).
This is something so much greater. Jesus wants us now. He wants His saved. He wants His children. He wants the cows to come home. To stop feeding in the yellow pasture and come feed in the green one that's unlike any other.
Yet His mercy and love is shown in the waiting. He's giving out everyone's ticket over and over again, hoping they will take it and get on His train, that will take them to heaven. And even when we say "not now" or "no" or thousands of other things, He continues to offer the ticket to the greatest place on earth.
The way that a mother wants all 4 of her kids home for the holiday, Jesus wants all of His kids home for the Reunion. For that great day. If you didn't know, it's going to be pretty much out of this world.
We actually are leaving this world.
Alabanza.
I indeed can't wait. But I know Jesus can't wait either. Even more. He's probably antsy in His pants (does Jesus wear pants??)
I hope I'm antsy to see Him, like I was antsy for my kids to return. Hopefully more.
It must be our choice to want to go home. The way is clear, and the Guide is waiting. We just have to chose. Everyday.
Cause sometimes we chose Jesus one day, but chose the world another. Or self, or success, or our desires, or even service for the Lord that He really doesn't want us to do. In everything, especially for Him, it must be what He wants.
And so people, friends, family... It's time now.
Like right now.
No hesitation can be there. Choosing Jesus every second of your life will be worth it. For I said it before and I'll say it again, "JESUS IS EVERYTHING"
So join these weird bunch of cows who praise a risen Lord who wants to claim us, the messed up and filthy, as His own.
It's going to be a pretty good journey. And the destination is quite Paká!
The Farmer is waiting.
"Get a 'moo' on!"
Praise be.
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