Angry.

Meena is angry, angry with God, wondering why He’s allowed such hardship in her life. Her husband left her three years ago, and life has been anything but easy.

“I cannot believe because of that,” Meena tells the women in the room. “Pray for me,” she asks.

We are hours away from the hustle and bustle of central Mumbai. The home we sit in is where Neha,* our translator, wants to put into practice the training she has received. For the past three days, Southeastern students have taught her how to share her testimony and stories from the Bible.

Heartbreaking.

Tears stream down Neha’s face as she continues to tell the stories the women are sharing.

Neha shares the story of the young woman sitting in the back of the small, poorly lit room, breast-feeding her child. Her husband beats her and drinks and gambles away their money, she says. As the young woman gently rocks her child, Neha tell us, “This woman was forced to marry a family member.”

A hush falls across the room. Then another woman begins to share her story.

“I pray, and my husband beats me. He beats me, but I still came today,” the woman explains.

Another woman, perhaps in her 30’s, chimes in, “I want to be baptized, but my family will not accept me.”

Stories of beatings, sickness and healing pour from the lips of the women.

“I felt all alone. I had no hope,” Pushpa* says. Raising her hands to gesture praises, she shares, “I thought I was going to die, but Christ healed me.”

“I believe Jesus Christ is the only God,” Pushpa says.

Hope.

As she cries, Rachel, a Southeastern team member smiles, nods and says, “Hope in eternity.” Rachel shares her personal testimony of hardships and encourages the women in the room to trust Jesus, even in hard times.

Then we take turns praying for the women.

Walking back to the main road to catch an auto rickshaw home, Neha turns to me and asks, “Are you happy?” Before I can answer, Neha says, “I am very happy. Today I talked about Jesus.”

*Names changed.

*Pratima’s husband beats her because she is a believer. If she goes to church, he beats her when she returns. Once, he beat her about the head to the point that she cried out in the name of Jesus. When she collapsed under the attack, he stopped.

Autumn, a member of the Southeastern team, listened intently as Pratima shared her story. As she listened, she sympathized with Pratima and with her daughter, *Lavanya, a young girl with a beautiful smile, pretty pigtails, and crippled legs.

Autumn and her translators shared stories from the Bible to encourage and comfort Pratima and Lavanya. As the team prepared to leave, Pratima asked them to wait.

“I want you to share these stories with my husband,” Pratima explained. “If he could just hear the stories and see that other people are believing this, he might believe. I want him to hear these stories. I want you to share with him.”

Autumn and her translators agreed to wait. As they waited, they prayed that Pratima’s husband would return.

“For whatever reason he didn’t [come back] that day,” Autumn said. “That was a little discouraging.”

As the team prepared to leave, they led Pratima and Lavanya in prayer. Although Pratima had not asked for prayer for her daughter, Autumn felt compelled to pray for healing.

“It didn’t happen,” Autumn said. “I really wanted it to happen, but that’s not what God wanted to happen.”

Although healing did not come to Lavanya, Pratima was encouraged and thankful that the team had come.

“She is not able to meet with other believers,” Autumn said, “To have us come into her home – that was her church.”

*Names changed

“I am taking you to the red-light district,” our translator says, “so we must pray because there is much spiritual battle there.”   We pray, then dodge auto rickshaws and taxis and goats, crossing the main road. We step around the corner, into a lane and I see them: women in front of narrow doorways on a dark street. Some just sitting and staring, others taking care of daily tasks—cooking rice, washing clothes.  Ordinary things. We stop to talk with them, asking if they know of Jesus and would they like to hear His story, asking how we can pray for them.

As *Martha and *Laura sit on a rope bed to share the Story with one lady, I find a bench nearby and sit beside two women who are engaged in animated conversation. They stop, greet me—and I try out Hindi phrases, much to their amusement. As they rise to go, a thin woman dressed in red and gold shalwar kameez is rushing towards me, speaking broken English nonstop.  “Hi mem. I am sick, mem. My body is paining me. I tell my madam I not want ‘work baby’. They take my baby.  I have TB…” When she stops to take a breath I quickly speak of Jesus’ love for her…and does she know of Jesus?  “Oh yes, mem. I love Jesus. I love Jesus.” Again the litany of troubles and she holds my arm.  I ask if I can pray for her in the name of Jesus. “Oh no, mem. I must go.” But what is your name? “Sudah.”  She runs off, down the lane. The dark lane. My brain that has been struggling to think of Hindhi words remembers another language from another time. “Sudah” in that language means “finished.”  Her life story feels like that—torn, bleeding, brief, finished. Lord, have mercy. Healer of the broken, touch Sudah and make her whole.

*names have been changed for security reasons