So this holy meal of sliced white bread and grape-flavored drink was a little unorthodox but its transforming power was legit.
On this Sunday morning in India, I sat barefooted in the ground floor of a Christian house church and worshipped.
There about twenty or thirty women and special-needs orphan girls, and maybe ten young men.
The worship music was a mash-up of Hillsong meets Bollywood.
The hour-long sermon was preached in alternating sentences of the local tongue and heavily accented English.
I was treated to a rotating parade of Nat's happy girls who took turns sitting on my lap.
So what I'm saying is that i struggled to stay connected to the worship.
But that changed in an instant, when I heard these familiar and reassuring words:
Jesus took bread, blessed it, and shared it with his friends, saying "Take and eat. This is my body, broken for you.
Then he took the cup, blessed it and shared it, saying, "this is my blood, poured out for you."
With these words, and the comforting gifts of bread and grape juice that were soon placed in my hands, I felt all the differences slide away, replaced by an utterly illogical but undeniable sense of belonging and connection to my companions in the basement.
And that was an experience I won't soon forget.
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Here is the full story of my trip to Hyderabad, India and my visit with the Indian Princesses:
Beautiful, Diane. Simply beautiful. <3
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Thanks, Heidi!
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