On Friday, we had the honor of being invited to have a meal with a local Christian family. The previous night, we had prayed over the grandmother of the same family, and the Lord healed her arthritis in her leg. Now, we were getting a chance to sit down and have a meal with them.
Our team is constantly learning new cultural rules that are foreign and sometimes catch us by surprise. On this night in particular we learned a very important fact about Indian dining: there is no such thing as a small portion.
To understand what I mean, it is important to know that Josh, one of the beloved members of the team, is a vegetarian. Now, Josh has no problem eating meat, and would be more than willing to do so out of respect. But, by now it would be incredibly hard for his stomach to digest. This is one of those parts of team dynamics that is hard to translate to the super generous family who is feeding you.
On top of that, we found out it was their anniversary.
So there we were, sitting in these wonderful family’s living room as they pass the bowl of water around to wash our right hand. The smell of peppers was in the air…doom to the American stomach. Then, our wonderful host came out and declared that we were eating meat—and incredible treat for Indians. However, it was not only meat, but beef…doom to the vegetarian’s stomach.
Looking at the panicked expression on Josh’s face, I quickly whispered that if he could take care of the rice, I could take care of the rest.
Then, it came. The spiciest dish we had yet encountered in this hot and dangerous land: spicy beef curry. With a brief look at each other, and casual winks all around to signify that we were all going to do this, we took our clean right hands and began feasting.
It was tangy, it was tasty, it was…hot. I was able to grab the first handful of meat from Josh’s plate without difficulty of the host seeing and didn’t mind at all, either. I was quite enjoying the intensity of the meal, and was going to enjoy going to bed on a full stomach. However, then the host came around for a second serving.
Then he came around for a third. And a fourth
You see, in India there is an unwritten rule that we learned that night: if you clear your plate, you must want more food! So round after round of this spicy, Indian dish, I took two helpings—sneaking it behind the back of the grinning host every time. The back of my head was wet with sweat, my pupils dilated, and my stomach turned. But, I survived.
In ministry, sometimes this is what it looks like to spread encouragement to others. We pray over them, we feast with them, and we go home with intense heartburn.
