I wish you could have been there when we did an open air directly in front of a Hindu temple. I wish you could have seen those grown men turned towards us and not towards their empty idols. I wish you could have seen the need for healing and the needs being met. I wish you could have been there when we took prayer requests for a church of 50 people in a village. They wanted us to pray for a keyboard, desiring to worship with more than a tambourine. I wish you could laugh with me as I’m woken up at six in the morning by crying babies, motorcycle engines reving, car horns, Hindu chants, cow mooing, dogs barking, and people yelling in Tamil about the random things they are selling. I wish you could experience the pure ecstasy of an ice cold coca cola in an air conditioned Internet cafe. I wish you could taste a fresh coconut knocked out of a tree by Ezekiel and Karthik. I wish you could have heard Shadrack talk about walking 9 kilometers to school from his village for 10 years. He has been a missionary for years now and he and his family are now doing a DTS. I wish you could share in my happiness when there is chippati instead of rice for a meal. I wish you could have stood inside a half built church in a village where there had never been a church before. I wish you could have seen the commitment and perseverance and dreams of that pastor. I wish you could have gone back to that village with us three weeks later and see that construction began several days after we prayed because funds and willing hands mysteriously appeared. I wish you could have been there when the pastor handed us each letters addressed to “the angle”. Our translator and friend Simeon said he meant that we were all his angels. I wish you could experience people staring at you all the time. I wish you could go to an orphanage and have the kids sing you a song they know about Jesus. I wish you could be pulled at and jumped on by a hundred kids who want to know your name and how you are doing. I wish you could help me shake their hands. Everyone wants to shake your hand. I wish you could have eaten some of the delicious Indian food that pastors, teachers, and new friends blessed us with. I wish you could have afternoon tea and the occasional biscuit with us. I wish you could have been on the indiana jones ride which was the 6 hour bus ride to Vellore. I wish you could see 100 Indians and 9 white people stuffed in a bus that seats maybe 50. I wish you could sit on various rooftops with Denise and me and discuss how God is so big while watching a lightening storm or a sunset while eating a pomegranate. I wish you could see my Indian clothes and understand the agony of wearing the same weird pants every.day. I wish you could experience the joys of having your toilet, shower, and laundry room all rolled in to one. I wish you could have met Alfred. The man diagnosed with Cerebral palsy, but he didn’t let it stop him from going to normal schools and universities. He started the arise trust and home where he shows the love of Jesus to kids like him. I wish you could hold one of those kids. I wish you could hand a book and a backpack to a kid who never had one before. I wish you could join me in my war against the Mosquitos. I wish you could bring me a washing machine. I wish you could make me a salad. I wish you could find me some ice. I wish you could see how people love people here. I wish you could feel the joy of simplistic community in the villages and slums. I wish you could meet Pastor Charles. He suffered a spinal cord injury in 1991 and hasn’t walked since then, but it hasn’t stopped him from founding a gospel ministry and an orphanage. I wish you could see him and the kids interact like a real family. I wish you could be here to ask real people real questions about real issues. I wish you could sit in on team time and talk with us about how God really is good all the time. I wish you could laugh with me at the goats prancing around, eating paper off walls, and standing on things up high. I wish you could play cricket and frisbee with orphans. I wish you could encourage and be encouraged by a small church. I wish you could experience the authenticity and commitment of the Christians here. I wish we could lip sync Tamil worship songs in church together. I wish your arms could be sore from pumping water with women in a slum. I wish you could walk with me down the big city streets and smell the smells and hear the noises and see the people everywhere and the vehicles everywhere and the cows, goats, chickens, dogs everywhere and have a million people try to sell you their things. I wish you could hear 1000 kids laugh at you simultaneously. I wish you could be smashed in the back of a rickshaw with me as we try to fit in 9 people. I wish you could have been at the church in the slums when the woman gave us 200 rupees during offering saying that we were missionaries and we needed it. Later we found out she was raising two kids by herself because of her alcoholic husband and they all lived in a 7×7 room in a slum. I wish you could help us plan the program when they say 2 minutes before you start “You have an hour. Entertain them.” I wish God would whisper to you on a bad attitude day when you have no desire to do ministry “I love you anyways”. I wish you could see God use our foolish words and reformulate them into personal revelations of his character. I wish you could see eyes, ears, hearts, minds opened. I wish you could help kill the cockroaches in the shower. I wish you could spend time with the quietly hilarious Pastor Caleb and his beautiful family. I wish you could have celebrated the 4th of July on the 17th of July with ice cream and fireworks on their rooftop. I wish you could meet Pastor Reverend Dr. P. Daniel and laugh at his quirky tendencies, have him try to feed you massive amounts of fried chicken, and be stunned by his faith and energy. I wish you could meet Gracie. Her mom was going to kill her because she wasn’t a boy, but a pastor saved her. Now she’s almost 4. I wish you could meet Nancy. She was found crying in a trash can. Now she is 18 and wanting to go to nursing school. I wish you could come to dinner and church on a sidewalk with the beggars on Sunday nights. I wish you could go to a leper colony and touch some lepers. I wish you could be lead around for 2 hours by a little girl with aids and no parents who quietly refuses to let go of your hand. I wish you could have watched those kids play with leaves and rocks and sand piles and fall out of trees with the biggest smiles on their faces. I wish you could watch the fishermen bring their catches out of the Bay of Bengal at 6 in the morning. I wish you could have Samuel tell you about all the ministries he is part of in Chennai. He gets so excited. I wish you could experience IJM. I wish you could steady the hand of a woman who is walking for the first time in year because Jesus heals. I wish you could see the tears of joy and the tears of deep, deep, deep sorrow. I wish you could join me in figuring out what to do with it all. I wish you would be moved like I’m being moved.