She still thinks she’s a slave. She doesn’t realize she’s a daughter now.

I heard this story the other day about a little girl in India… Let’s call her Shanti (because it means “peace” in Hindi). Her father passed away and her mother abandoned her. She became a servant, enslaved.

An American pastor visiting a ministry in India heard this story and felt compelled to help. Shanti had been rescued and brought to an orphanage where the pastor agreed to sponsor her.

He went to visit her a year later, and they sat for a meal together. As the pastor finished his chicken, he noticed Shanti began to eat the bone. He asked the caretaker why she was doing this. The caretaker explained, “She still thinks she’s a slave. She doesn’t realize she’s a daughter now.”

A few years later, the pastor found himself sitting for a meal again with Shanti. This time she finished her chicken, left the bones and ran out to play with her friends.

This story paints a vivid picture of the mental and emotional struggle of a young girl who survived enslavement.

How does this story relate to our own realities?

We may not be eating scraps as if it’s potentially our last meal – but I know at least I can relate to the self-inflicted strongholds of slavery. We forget we have a Father who set us free. Free from our own sins, from our past… from … everything.

The second point I took from this story was the idea of being a daughter (or son), not a slave. God wants more than our devotion, He wants to be involved in our lives. You can’t earn God’s love, you’re His child.

Asking for God’s love is like asking to get on a bus you’re already on.

Partner with children like Shanti who are vulnerable and in need of support. https://fh.org/give/sponsor

About Charith Norvelle

I’m the girl that laughs at the “writers” who sit behind their Macs at a pretentious coffee shop trying to find inspiration... and then I laugh harder because I’m one of them. A coffee obsessed photographer, in love with God, people, and travel... but where I’m from, thats not original at all. Planted in Portland, Oregon growing in Phoenix, Arizona. I joined Food for the Hungry in 2008 because I love people. Photographing them, learning and sharing their stories and helping you to touch, taste, and smell their world... don’t worry... the smell's not that bad.

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