I haven’t written a blog in a while. I was thinking about the reasoning behind my lack of desire to write, I realized that I was in process mode. Processing something that I didn’t know how to write about except in my journal and let’s be honest, there’s blog journaling and then there’s journaling journaling. Journaling journaling is where my insecurities come out, where my tears are captured, where I praise God for my deepest desires and for providing, and where I just may make a whole page of cuss words and complaining because I have nothing else to express the way I feel.
So with that said, this month of ministry has involved mountain village evangelism, visiting a nursing home, and praying for church families. To evangelize in the villages we walk for an hour or two up to villages high in the mountains, hand out tracks (pamphlets with info about who Jesus is and what the gospel is), and start conversations about faith and Jesus Christ. We haven’t done this much in Nepal…Romania is where it began for me. And at times I feel as if I’m trying to convince myself (by repeatedly telling others) that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
What really grabbed a hold of me this month, and what caused me to have to process through journaling journaling, was the visit to a Buddhist monastery at the top of a nearby mountain.
My team hiked 1.5 hours up a steep mountain and was able to tour the monastery and visit with monks in the school. This doesn’t happen to everyone. Well, anyone can tour the monastery, but to go into their school, their home, and get-to-know the life of a monk is rare. My ministry contact grew up Buddhist, became a Christian at the age of 26 (through reading a track), went through much persecution, and is still able to relate to and make friends with monks outside the monastery. So this is what happened. Megh made a friend and this was our ticket into the life of a monk…and the beginning of a whole new world for me.
I mean I’ve studied world religions in college but to actually be standing at the top of a mountain, at a Buddhist monastery, dissecting the meaning of all the graphic pictures and statues, and sitting down with a young monk and a teacher of the monastery to “chill”, brought an unforgettable amount of emotion upon me. While looking at the gorey images of people being boiled in a large pot of oil, or thrown down on a spear, or decapitated, something overcame me and I couldn’t stop crying.
I then looked at the statues around the monastery and saw 'people' and animals with angry facial expressions and spears. I suppose it resembled the hell fire and brim stone type of churches we see in America whose desire is to scare one into a faith.
At this moment I was lost in the world of religion, in the world of faith and was trying to find my God. Through uncontrollable tears and a confusion that entered me, Megh grabbed me and pulled me into his side for a hug. All I could say to him through my tears was, “I don’t understand.” In knowing that he understood from growing up in a life of Buddhism, I found a bit of comfort through his constant joy and as he reminded me of why we were there.
As I went into the monastery I saw pictures of the Dali Lama at the front, to be revered as the great guru in teaching peace and enlightenment.
One monk we spoke with had been living at the monastery his whole life and is now 80 years old. To be clothed in a sari type of outfit, head shaved, and day after day live, work, and learn at the monastery. As I mentioned in my blog about Megh’s testimony, parents dedicate their middle children to God and they go live in a monastery at the age of 6 or so, and remain there until they decide they do not want to pursue the life of a monk anymore.
As my team sat down with Megh’s friend and with a teacher at the monastery we began learning more about Buddhism and the life of a monk. We were able to share what Jesus was to us as the Buddhist teacher (who really just taught English at the school) was able to show us his necklace which contained a picture of baby Jesus and of Buddha. His words were, “I’m just covering my grounds…I’m sure to go to heaven.”
One non-crazy thing that this teacher did say was that 6 monks left the monastery, and the monk life, the day before my team of 6 girls came to the monastery. Maybe it’s God, maybe I’m looking too much into it, but none the less it is something to think about.
As for my understanding of exactly what happened at the monastery, I’m still allowing God to help me through that.
