no-longer-a-slumdog

open your eyes
born and raised in the United States.
But for the Indian street girl I had just encountered, I doubt
that she had ever held a toothbrush in her hand. Her face had
never been washed with soapy water, and her hair had never been
touched by shampoo. She had never slept in a warm bed under
clean sheets and on fluffy pillows. Maybe she had never even heard
the words, “Your mommy loves you. Your daddy loves you.”
Probably her entire upbringing had been one of daily struggles—living
on the streets with thousands of other children who
also had no home to go to when evening came.
This question just kind of hung in the air as I walked on, “Is
her life as valuable and precious as . . .”
I knew what the proper response was. Being a minister and
quite familiar with the Bible, I knew right away what my answer
was supposed to be.
“Of course, Lord! I care about her. The value of this little
beggar girl’s life means as much as that of my own daughter’s.”
No more questions were asked. I was left to process my own
thoughts. What followed was one of the most difficult walks of
my life. It was the first time I realized the pain and passion our
Lord carries in His heart for the forgotten children in the villages
and slums of these poor and destitute nations.
Honestly, I had great trouble trying to assimilate this revelation.
I couldn’t imagine my daughter standing on that street in
Bombay with her hand out begging for a few pennies to buy a
piece of bread for her brother. It was too painful for me to think
about.
Yet the reality remains that the girl I met represented the faces
of millions of children who are crying out not only for food,
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