“Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” Matthew 19:14.
Ananthi Jebasingh has spent her life saving children in the slums of Delhi. But she helped to save me, too. Let me explain.
In November 1994, I won re-election to the Kentucky State Senate. My head began to swell with the possibilities of a life in politics. In January 1995, I even made a quick trip to Washington, D.C., to talk about a future in Congress or more.
I met with Mitch McConnell, the already-famed US Senator from my old Kentucky home. I told him I was thinking about running for either Attorney General in ‘95 or Congress in ‘96. I was on a ‘political high’- an ego-driven journey to fame. I spiritualized the journey. God needed me in this political arena, I thought, since I was a rare breed willing to speak truth in the public square. Friends kept patting me on the back, and the local liberal newspaper mocked me with cartoons. Both sides fueled my fire.
But Senator McConnell threw cold water on my dreams. He politely and simply stated, “Feel free to run, of course, but you will lose.” I was inwardly insulted and disappointed. But within a matter of minutes, I knew he was right.
I was not good at the game of compromise and back-slapping necessary to move up the political ladder. I was too “religious” in the minds of most people who voted. I had already given many speeches that would douse the flames of a political career. When I returned to Kentucky, my wife, Sue, was happy to see her wet noodle of a husband giving up on any major political moves.
And then, a February trip to India really put perspective on life. We landed on February 2, 1995, in Calcutta. It was my fourth trip, leading a group of mostly doctors on a “mission of mercy” that included delivering medicine to Bihar and working with Mother Teresa in Calcutta.
As the doctors settled in for their work, I took a side trip to the capital, Delhi, for a small gathering of Indian Christians in the Parliament. Even now, thirty years later, I remember it well. We dialogued about the unique challenges of being Jesus followers in politics, especially in India, where the Hindu majority can be dangerous. Religious persecution is real in India. In America, we risk mockery and ridicule. In India, they risk life itself.
After the grandeur of the Parliament, I had planned a quick trip to see the Taj Mahal. But my guide and friend Richard Samuel told me there was someone else I needed to meet.
Ananthi Jebasingh was teaching children in a public toilet in a Delhi slum. He said I should meet her. What? Teaching children in a public toilet in a slum? I honestly could not imagine such a scene. So, forget the Taj Mahal. Let’s go meet this Ananthi lady.
As usual, Richard was right.
Richard and I met Ananthi at her home. She told me the story of 1989. A small boy had knocked on her door, begging for food. She turned him away, but he kept coming back, and the voice of the Lord said, “You are a teacher, so teach him.” So, she did. As word spread, she ended up with more than twenty slum children who wanted to attend her “school.” She was soon teaching dozens of children in her crowded garage. She needed a bigger place, but the government would not provide any space. She made an appointment with a government official to try to fix her problem. Perhaps in jest, hoping she would go away, the Commissioner of Slums gave permission to use two vacant but stinky rooms at the slum’s Toilet Complex. Men’s facility on the left and Ladies’ facility on the right, with a couple of rooms in the middle.
We walked with Ananthi about 100 yards to the entrance point for the slum. We smelled the toilet complex before we saw it. We heard children laughing before we saw them. As we approached the toilets, slum children gathered to greet us. Ninety children were waiting inside for their beloved Ananthi, plus two strangers. The empty rooms inside the complex were packed with children sitting neatly in rows with desktops, all wearing red sweaters, all standing when we walked into the room. Old-fashioned chalkboards had been placed on the walls. Pictures drawn by six and seven-year-old children were on the walls. She was running shifts for the school, teaching more than 500 children of all ages within the slum community.
Of course, I went home with nothing but those slum children on my heart. The sounds. The sights. The smell.
In the early 2000s, the government made plans to clear the slums for some sort of ‘progress’. Ananthi would have to do something. She took me to an empty site which could be purchased to enlarge the school and teach even more children. Her only “development plan” to raise the money was Prayer. Prayer and more Prayer. She now manages a staff of over 150 in New Delhi, India. They provide free education, nutrition, and medical care to more than 3,000 of India’s impoverished children. Over 2,400 children have graduated high school, and the dream goes on and on.
I am writing this from Louisville, Kentucky, where The Colson Center has named Ananthi as the 2025 William Wilberforce Award recipient. Dr. Jebasingh was honored last night during a ceremony at the 2025 Colson Center National Conference as a brilliant example of what it means for the Church to be the Church. See the Video at right which documents Ananthi’s remarkable journey.
In 1995, on the plane coming home from India, I wrote a poem which conveyed the emotion of that first trip to the Toilet complex. Ananthi was changing her world. She was unaware that she was also changing a politician in Kentucky.
My battles for fame and fortune looked different after meeting this simple lady who heard the voice of the Lord and said, “Send Me. I Will Go.” She had chosen not to change the world through politics, but through obedience to the voice of God. I decided to follow her.
“The School” (I wrote this poem in February 1995 on the plane coming home from Delhi. The sights and smells of the school were still fresh in my mind and heart.)
The Capitol Delhi, Money and Power, Elegant hotels, A beautiful flower.
Parliament grandeur, O, what a sight!, Hides the dark Shadow, Delhi at Night.
Near the mansions, By the rich ground, Lie the slum children, Lost and not found.
Live in the garbage, Sleep in the street, No education, Nothing discreet.
But one simple lady, Saw the sad plight, Decided to act, Decided to fight.
Looks at the children, Can’t really afford,, Hopeless it seems, But she knows the Lord.
Nowhere to house them, No one to teach, “God, where’s the answer?, Please come, we beseech.”
He points to a toilet, And she sees a school,, It must be delusions, They call her a fool.
She remembers a stall, A low manger bed, Where a baby named Jesus, Lay down His sweet head.
Men’s room, the left, The women, the right, The children between them, Oh, what a sight.
The children are smiling, They sing “slap a back”, They write for the 1st time, They’re getting the knack.
Smiles now abundant, Discipline rare, All in a toilet, The smell is still there.
But, get past the odor, You’ll see what I mean, There is an aroma, It’s Jesus, so clean.
The hearts and the minds, Of these precious young souls, Are changed now forever, With new higher goals.
So children now learn, From that one Godly fool, A slum in North Delhi, Now has a school, All because Jesus
Pointed the way, To a toilet in Delhi, Where a lady did pray.
To a toilet in Delhi, Where a lady did pray!
For more information about the William Wilberforce Award and Ananthi Jebasingh, click below.
https://www.christianpost.com/news/founder-of-indias-toilet-school-receives-colson-center-honor