Photo Cred: Hannah Berndt
Eight hours, up and down, climbing up jagged rocks, navigating across frigid streams, walking through mud, dirt, water, sand, grass, and woods. Minute after minute, hour after hour. The fronts of my hips begin to feel bruised from the weight of my pack, my back and shoulders are completely soaked in sweat, my ankles can no longer sustain my weight, and my lower back is sore to the touch. Eight hours up and across the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains.
Long after nightfall we finally arrive to a tiny mountain village and crawl into the four-room schoolhouse, our home for the night. Illuminated by only candles and flashlights, the fourteen of us arrange ourselves in the small room like a jigsaw puzzle and prepare for some much needed sleep. Within hours I am passed out from exhaustion, resting my head on the front of my pack, with only a small square pad to cushion my sore hips from the cold, hard floor.
We awake just as the sun begins to peek over the fog and trek another two hours straight up hill until we arrive at our final destination; an even smaller village nestled into the mountainside.
To be honest, in the moment I wasn’t sure why we were doing this. Why did we have to hike for 10 hours, up the steep rock, and through the mud? Wasn’t there a closer village we could have walked to? Why did we have to come all the way up here?
But within minutes I got my answer.
Our Squad Leader Joe delivered a beautiful message to the community. A message on the joy and peace of Jesus. How aside from all the religious jargon, being in relationship with the Lord has given him more peace in his life than anything else ever could. He encouraged the people around us, both believers and not, “to pursue the Lord and let God show you the peace that I’m talking about”.
When he finished speaking we began to pray for members of the community. Everything from back pain to wrist pain, to paralysis. But one woman stood out to me in particular. She was an older lady, probably in her mid-70’s and she had been blind for nearly 3 years. We laid hands on her and asked the Lord to renew her and bring healing to her eyes. Nothing changed, but as we were praying the Lord placed it on our hearts that this woman needs healing far deeper than anything physical, she needs spiritual healing. One of my squad mates Ben began to speak the life of Jesus over her and she started to weep. Uncontrollably, a flood of tears poured out of her eyes. We prayed that the Holy Spirit would just overwhelm her in that moment, fill her up and rock her world. The tears continued to poor down her peacefully weathered face, and as we stared into her big brown eyes, we saw a beautiful daughter of the Lord. When we finished praying, my squad mate looked her in the eyes and said ‘”Jesus adores you, and we would hike up this mountain all over again just for you.”
And then it hit me. That’s it right there. Why did we have to hike for 10 hours? Why did we have to hike straight up hill to this particular village? Because Jesus had a daughter up here whom He adored, and she needed to hear that.
That’s why He had me hike that mountain, that’s why I’m here in Nepal, and that’s why I’m here on the Race; because there are cherished children of God that don’t know they’re His yet.
I’m here to spread the Kingdom, not by reciting the perfect scripture verse, not by even praying the perfect prayer, but by staring a 70-year-old women in the eyes and reminding her that she is a beloved daughter of the Lord. By holding a six year old girl who has never known the touch of a parent and allowing her to experience the comfort of her Father’s love. By standing by my teammate through thick and thin and reminding her that she couldn’t do a darn thing that would make me stop loving her. And by looking in the mirror and reminding myself, that God also asked several people to climb giant mountains just so He could tell me how much He adores me.
“Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.” Psalm 136:1
