Hooker!? I Don't Even Know Her! (Part 3 of 3 India Train Station Stories)

by Tim Swanson

Her name was Camala, and she approached us as we walked around the train station parking lot praying for the travelers. We were there to share the Gospel with a group of homeless boys that lived and worked in the train station. I was sad to hear that they caught a train to Bombay to do some fruit cutting work that had become available.

James, our guide and translator, spoke with her in Hindi which made it impossible to understand what was being said. My team members and I watched with interest as they seemed to be arguing. James was a characteristically happy guy, but as they spoke he was shaking his head and waving his hands at her as if he were saying "no". She seemed undeterred by his words and gestures and she continued to respond. At one point, James tried to just walk past her, but she jumped right out in front of him again and started talking.

Finally James turned to us and confessed, “She is a prostitute, and she is trying to offer a group rate for all of you.” Gross! He went on to explain that he was telling her that we were ministers, but she was very persistent and would not leave us alone. My team talked it over for a moment before deciding to try to share the Gospel with her. We told James we would like to have a conversation with her, and he relayed the message. She agreed. Our group leader tried to break the ice by asking where she was from. Her response was all business. James translated, “She says that you can only ask her questions about her profession.” She still hoped to land a transaction with my team. Our group leader quickly found an appropriate question, “How did you get into this line of work?” That was the right move. After that we spent an hour talking with her. She told us the heartbreaking story of an arranged marriage gone bad and her husband selling her into the sex trade industry at the age of 16. She told us about her daughter who lived in another region with a relative. Before long, my team started talking about how we could help. We asked her if we could give her money to get a train ticket and get away from the train station and back to her daughter. She declined. She told us that the gangs regularly beat her and took all of her money. My team chatted about the best possible option for the young lady. We quickly landed on buying her a train ticket and walking her to the train. We were excited about the prospect of being helpful. James, who seemed uncomfortable the whole time, turned to her to relayed our plan and ask if she was interested.

As he began to speak, she jerked her gaze to the side and without hesitation turned and ran away. My team and I looked to see what had scared her off. There were two police officers walking directly toward us. We did not try to run, but as the situation unfolded, we kinda regretted standing our ground. James spoke to them in Hindi again, only this time he seemed more panicked than anything. After a moment of talking with the police officers he turned to us, “they are accusing us of using a prostitute.” I suppose it was a fair accusation. We had struck up a transaction with Camala, just not the kind of transaction you normally make with a hooker. James continued, “they are just harassing us. I’m trying to tell them that we are here to bring the Good News, but they will not listen. They only want a bribe.” I looked at James and said, “Oh, How much do they want?” I fully intended to pay the corrupt police officers off and move on with my night. I reached for my wallet expecting to hear a dollar amount from James. Instead he responded, “No! We do not bribe.” James turned back to the cops and began talking with them again. A little worried, I tapped James on the shoulder, “It’s really not a big deal, we can pay them off.” James refused again and turned back to the officers only this time he seemed to be arguing with them. Before too long the two cops were done arguing with James. They looked at us and began to shout and point at the fence that lined the parking lot. They were telling us to line up against the wall. My stomach sank. I had heard stories of missionaries getting arrested in countries like India. All I knew about it was that it was a very long and painstaking process to bring them home. My team was reluctant to line up, which only made the cops more angry. They shouted at us and stepped past James with their batons in hand. We didn’t hesitate any longer. My team began to move over to the fence and line up. Visions of being locked up in an Indian prison took over my mind.

A picture of us with the train station boys.
James is wearing a white shirt in the front.

Just as they prepared to cuff the first member of my team, a voice rang out across the parking lot. Immediately after that two more voices called out. They were shouting one word in Hindi that we could not understand. But when we looked, we saw that the voices came from the train station boys. They had just gotten back from Bombay, and they were pouring out of the station’s doors and running over to us shouting the same one word. Their noise was really making a commotion. Travelers were stopping to see what the boys were yelling about. The boys ran to us, and paying no attention to the police officers they ran up and hugged us. The police officers looked at the growing audience of travelers that were stopping to see what all the noise was. They seemed to grow a bit concerned just before they turned and briskly walked away from us. As the boys shouted and surrounded us, James looked at us with a massive smile on his face, “They are saying the word that means Minister.”

That night was a close call. James had faith where I did not. He trusted God in the middle of a very uncertain situation. I learned some valuable lessons about what strong faith looks like on that trip, but that evening will always stand out in my mind. James put incredible faith in God to provide for us in the midst of real danger from some corrupt cops. James’ faith has been an inspiration to me since that night.

In front of the train station with a couple of the boys.

After a very fond greeting from the boys, we went and tracked down Camala. A few of the train station boys walked with us as we bought her a train ticket and walked her to the trian. We prayed for her and watched her board the large blue passenger car. I don’t know how things turned out for her, but I know who we prayed to when we asked for her safety. We prayed to the same God that provided for us when two corrupt police officers wanted to arrest us for not bribing them. We prayed to a God who has promised to deliver, and indeed always does.

Read More

Fight Club Ministry (Part 2 of 3 India Train Station Stories)

by Tim Swanson

I stared out the bus window at hundreds of motorized rickshaws zipped along the crowded streets of Bangalore, India. From what I had been told, we were on our way to share the gospel with a bunch of homeless kids at the train station. I was not looking forward to it. What kind of a conversation was I going to have with a little homeless Indian boy? What could we possibly have in common? To make matters worse, we had  arrived a day earlier at the train station after a 24 hour train ride in 3rd class (which makes coach look like high society). So the thought of going to hang out at the train station was about the most unappealing thing I could think of.

We arrived at the Bangalore train station just before sunset. James, our guide and translator led us through the thick crowds of people to the large terminal building. He took us through the main doors into the lobby (which was just another area with a herd of people moving through). He instructed us to wait while he tracked down some of the boys. Then he disappeared into the crowds. He was gone long enough to leave us wondering if we would never see him again. The sun quickly set and disappeared, along with the crowds of people. The boys carried luggage during the day to earn enough money to eat and get high in the evening. So James had timed our visit to begin just after the busy part of the day. As we arrived and the crowds left, the boys were just getting off work.

James reappeared with few of the boys. My team was initially excited as we discovered how easy it was to introduce ourselves to each other. All we had to do was pat our chest with one hand and say our names. The boys smiled when we did this, and responded by doing the same. Our initial excitement didn't last long before frustration set in. Without any common tongue between us and the boys, it was really hard to do anything beyond introduce ourselves. James moved around trying to translate what he could. But by before long there were enough boys that he couldn't possibly translate for everyone. I was still wallowing in my pessimism. In an attempt to connect with the boys, a couple members of my team started trying to teach them to play Pat-a-cake. We tried to minister to the boys, but it was awkward at best. A few of my team members had mild success with pat-a-cake, but some of the others (including myself) were not making any progress. It was a lot like a really bad first date.

This is the train station where the boys live and work.
The bit of parking lot in the photo is where we ended up
wrestling around with each other. 

Before long, the boys were beginning to lose interest. As we struggled to connect with them, they were beginning to wander away. To be honest, I was starting to lose interest myself. Feeling a little defeated, I began looking around the lobby as if I would spot something that would save me from the awkward failure. As my eyes wandered over the various fixtures of the train station, I spotted a couple of the young boys who had taken to some horse play. Their rough housing struck a chord with me. So I walked over to them. They stopped playing and faced me as I approached them. With one hand I reached out and poked one of the boys in the chest. Confused by this, the boys stood there with blank stares. They weren't sure what to make of me. So I made another attempt to communicate my intentions. with an open hand I patted one of the boys on the chest and said, “India”. Then I patted myself on the chest and followed up with, “Pakistan”. The boy’s eyes grew wide and a grin appeared on their faces. He stepped forward and pushed me back. His friend came and joined him. Before too long, our rough housing caught the attention of a police officer. He told James that our new game was not welcome in the lobby. So together with my team and a growing group of boys, we headed out to the parking lot. When I turned to the boys I had instigated, they had multiplied from two to four. The boys gathered around. Then one or two at a time came running, trying to tackle me to the ground. Being homeless and addicted to drugs, the boys were all pretty skinny. As they ran up and jumped on me, I easily batted them off. And I didn't worry as more boys came out of the train station and joined the circle around me. By the end of the night, there were more than a dozen boys in the circle. 'Connecting' didn't seem to be a problem anymore. And when we were finished playing, James had the boys undivided attention to share the Gospel.

James still shares Jesus with the guys at the train station.
Here is a current picture of them, ten years after my team
first visited them. James is in the front row, wearing a blue
collared long sleeve shirt.

After that night, we returned to the train station once a week. And the ministry to the homeless boys became the thing I looked forward to the most. I was dreading it initially. When we first got to the train station, my dread was affirmed as we struggled to communicate with the boys. Then I tried a new way of reaching out that worked really well for me. Some of my team members continued with Pat-a-cake, which was good because not every boy wanted to join the fight club ministry that we had started.

Leadership Principle

The other night something clicked for me as I was reading The Leadership Challenge. In the book, the authors identify 5 characteristics that leaders exhibit when they are at their best. One of those characteristics is 'challenge the process'. The authors say, "Challenge is the crucible for greatness... Leaders venture out; they don't sit idly by and wait for fate to smile on them". A good leader naturally seeks out better ways of doing things. There are some people who would even argue that the ability to instigate change is an essential ingredient in the definition of what a leader is. And many things can provoke that striving for change. For me, my own social discomfort forced me to find a better way to connect with the train station boys. What it for you? In what areas of your life are you feeling uncomfortable or stagnant? Which habits or systems can you let go of? What's just not working for you anymore? Moving away from just one or two obsolete habits could be the catalyst you didn’t know you really needed. It could be the very thing that helps you achieve those goals that seem to he just out of reach. So have a look at that this week. What is one area where you can challenge your process and potentially jump start your productivity?

Read More

A Lesson from The Guy That Mugged Me (Part 1 of 3 India Train Station Stories)

by Tim Swanson

In the train station of the metropolitan city of Bangalore, India there is a group of young men. They don’t have any family outside of each other. Their bed is the train station floor. They earn money by carrying luggage for travelers during the day. At night, they spend that money on cocaine and heroin, which is their only recreation. In a country that revolves around a class system that determines each person’s value, they belong to the lowest class. They are treated as subhuman by the people they serve, and they are threatened with violence by the other members of their caste. These boys range in age from 9 - 20 years old.

I stepped out of the city bus, onto the crowded sidewalk in front of the train station. Huge letters spelled out ‘Bangalore City’ across the top of the large terminal. My team was a group of missionaries from the US and Europe. With us was James, a native and our translator. We were there to minister to the group of young homeless boys that live in the train station.

I was excited as we walked toward the large terminal building. This was not our first time visiting the train station boys. Over the previous weeks we had come a number of times. And similarly to the previous weeks, the boys were excited to see us. They came pouring out of the station doors as we arrived. Several boys surrounded each member of my team and began talking to us all at once, even though we didn’t speak a lick of each other’s language. We were glad to see them too.

As the sun set, it ignited the Indian sky. Shades of amber and crimson cast a mellow twilight blanket over everything. I felt a little tired after a few nights of bad dreams and carrying around a foreboding feeling that something bad was going to happen. But that night I tried to shrug it off since this was the highlight of my week. I didn't want anything to distract me from spending time playing games with those boys. And the nature of our games kept us in the parking lot. Packed in between the rows of cars we laughed and joked around for a long time. By this time I was beginning to recognize some of the boys, and I had even learned the names of one or two of them. But I still referred to many of them by their appearance, such as ‘the tall skinny one’ or ‘the short skinny one’. Being homeless and addicted to drugs they were all ‘skinny ones’.

Before long, the sun was completely gone. Our games were lighted by the tall parking lot lights. I was a little winded, so I decided to take a break from our game. As I sat down on the concrete curb, one of the younger boys ran up to me and grabbed my hand to pull me back to my feet. I shook my head and tried to communicate that I needed a minute to sit down. However, he was persistent. I couldn’t understand a single word he was saying. But he was exclaiming about something and motioning toward another part of the parking lot. Finally I gave in and stood up to go with him. As we walked past the rows of dark cars, and away from everyone else, I had a quick hesitation, “maybe I should let someone know that I’m going over here” I thought. Ignoring my better judgement I shrugged it off again and followed the now running boy. With the way he was hurrying, I began to wonder if someone had been hurt.

We flew past row after row of parked cars. Then he took a sharp turn in between two compact size sedans. He pulled me between the two cars with him and with one finger motioned for me to wait. I watched curiously as he reached into the pocket of his ripped denim shorts. In the moment after that, time seemed to nearly stop. It all happened in a moment, but I’ll never forget that moment for the rest of my life. The child removed from his pocket an old beat up straight blade razor. He unfolded it revealing a blade that had been sharpened down to a point. With the razor completely extended, he reached his arm out pressing the tip of the shiv into my belly. Then in very broken english he stuttered, “give me your money”.

Have you ever found yourself in a sticky situation like that? Unwanted things are sure to happen to all of us. But have you ever found yourself at the end of a short rope knowing that it could have been avoided had you followed your better judgement? Today, the world isn’t friendlier than it used to be. In fact, you could make a good argument that the world is less friendly today than ever before. This is especially true if you call yourself a Christ follower. As you work to grow your relationship with Jesus and show His love to others, your enemy is trying to trick, ensnare, tempt, hinder, crush, deceive, taunt, trip, and even from time to time stab you to keep you from accomplishing that goal. As Christians (and especially if you are in ministry leadership) we cannot afford to be caught unaware. Fortunately for us, we serve an all powerful God who wants us to succeed. And among an arsenal of protective tools, He has given each one of us a conscience, which will benefit us inasmuch as we follow it and seek to align it with Scripture. There are two great things you can do to build a spiritually aware conscience:

1. Read your Bible: Yes, I know it sounds rudimentary, but don’t underestimate it. There is no better way to align your conscience with Scripture than to make it the focus of your studies. Maybe you’re burned out on Bible Study. If you are, this might be a good time to find a new way to work through Scripture. There are lots of great resources out there. YouVersion is an excellent app that has a gazillion bible study and devotional plans.

2. Pray: “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” Hebrews 4:16. If you’re past is like mine, you may find yourself having a hard time believing that God actually likes you and wants to help you. Well, He does. He cares more than you can possibly understand. And as you pray, you’ll come to a deeper understanding of that care. And you don’t have to begin by praying for an hour every morning. Find something that works for you. I have some good friends who throw their keys under their beds before they go to sleep at night so that they have to get on their knees before they can leave in the morning. God wants to meet with you. If you’re faithful, He will be all the more. I bet you're wondering how things ended with me and the boy.

I stared down at the shiv that pressed against my stomach. It had clearly seen better days. The handle was worn, and the blade was covered in rust. In one moment the boy had presented the shiv and his demand. In the next moment I grabbed his wrist with one hand and twisted it to remove the tip of the weapon from my belly. With my other hand, I hit the boy in the chest as hard as I could. He staggered backward and dropped the razor as he fell over. As he laid on the ground gasping for air, I quickly walked back to the well lit area with my team and the rest of the boys were still playing and having fun. That may or may not have been the best way to react. But that’s exactly what it was - a reaction.

I should have listened to my conscience that night. I was very fortunate to be mugged by a boy that I could easily overthrow. But it would have been better for me to follow my conscience and avoid the danger entirely. I am no stranger to avoidable mistakes. Today I've learned some really hard lessons. One that I have no desire to learn again is that I should listen to my conscience. Initially this means listening to common sense that says not to go to dark places with strangers. As a ministry leader, this means avoiding the things that can destroy my testimony. As Christians we should never forget that our conscience is our safeguard. It’s not always comfortable to listen to it, but it is profitable.

“holding on to faith and a good conscience, which some have rejected and so have suffered shipwreck with regard to the faith.” 1 Timothy 1:19

Read More