Growing up in the 1980’s in Kolar Gold Fields in South India, my world was framed by the tall walls of our Bethany Lutheran Church, which stands as a reminder of that colonial-era heritage and the community that grew around it. The church building reflects both faith and history, preserving the story of how the area developed from a mining settlement into a place of worship and witness. My father is a Lutheran pastor, my mum a secondary biology teacher and my two younger siblings lived in the warm chaos vicarage where our lives were woven tightly around worship, community and services. I grew up knowing that Sunday was not just a day on the calendar – it was a festival of faith.
We lived in the vicarage beside the church. Our family cleaned the sanctuary, rang the bell, laid out hymn books and brewed endless cups of tea. On Sundays, the church courtyard came alive - new mothers with babies in their arms, teenagers whispering in the back pews, the elders with silver hair who carried decades of tradition, stories and prayers. Most of my extended family worshipped in the same church, so Sundays felt like a reunion on both my mum’s and dad’s side, gatherings full of worship, prayer, games and long conversation. With that community, life felt rich and safe.
Growing up, I became aware that life outside the church walls was not always easy, especially for women and for Christians from certain social backgrounds. Opportunities were sometimes uneven, and there were moments when it seemed as though people like me were quietly placed at a disadvantage. Yet by the grace of God, I learned that I had a place in His purpose and plan.
In the years that followed, prayer became my refuge. Fasting and prayer remain sacred to me, a way of seeking the Lord for strength, wisdom and a life filled with hope. Instead of allowing hardship to defeat me, I turned my attention to education, trusting that God is opening a path before me. When the opportunity came to study and then work in the NHS, it brought me into a new culture and a wider world, but it did not take me away from my faith. The church remained my sanctuary. Though I worked six days a week, my sabbath was always found in the house of God, where people welcomed me and my family, and I knew I belonged and where I could hold fast to the faith that had shaped me from childhood.
The church where I was raised gave me more than a building; it gave me spiritual shelter, community, and a living witness to God’s faithfulness. Here in Surrey St Paul’s Church, East Molesey, I learned what it means to be a living Christian. As a first-generation Indian, now British Asian, we were new to the community with no extended family or friends, yet St Paul’s welcomed us as their own. We became one family in Christ, sharing with us in times of joy and sorrow; they were there for us – showing me Christian faith in action through love, belonging, and supporting one another. That is why Anglican churches matter so deeply in my South Asian heritage story. They not only gave us a place to integrate and worship, but a network of communities where we were known, held and helped to grow in faith.
I honour the community that raised me, the struggles that shaped me, and our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ who has led me each step of the way.
My hope in sharing my story is that others might recognise God’s gentle work in their own lives. Perhaps you, too, have felt overlooked because of your gender, your background, your name, or your faith. Maybe you have wondered if there is space for you in this world as you truly are. I believe there is. The same God who shaped my path is able to guide yours. He calls each of us – not to erase our heritage, but to walk in it with courage, to seek justice, to welcome others, and to build a society where everyone is included and valued.
A reflection from Revd Linnet Frederick Prasad