While this past month may have been one of the most fruitful months yet, it has been one of the most difficult months of my life.
We landed in Katmandu, Nepal on January 7th. Immediately following, we hit the ground running. I had been blessed with the opportunity to lead a team of 6 men along with another team of 8 men. The first four days were filled with Hindu and Buddhist temple visits. Over the years, many teams have been lead to the outside of these temples. I am extremely humbled to serve alongside brothers who are willing to enter, proclaim the true savior’s name, and risk being imprisoned.
Following those incredible four days came my first trial. I had received a text message saying that my grandfather was now with the Lord. For those of you who have not had the privilege to know my Pop-Pop, he was the godly influence for all men to follow. I could sit here all day and list of his remarkable attributes, but he would not want that. He gave me one thing that I will forever cherish, yet will hold me to the highest standard for the rest of my life, the gift of holding the Palmer name. Looking back on the rich Palmer heritage, I can only attempt to become the Christian man as the men who have held it before me. Without their boldness in faith, my brothers and I would not be serving on the other side of the world.
The upcoming days were spent traveling down to a brick-making village in the south. When I say village, I mean impoverished, hopeless, in the middle of nowhere village. The 15 of us were going to be sleeping on the floor of a church for the next 8 days and ministering to the villagers.
The second that I laid down on the floor of that church, I would not get up for three days. I soon became the sickest that I have ever been in my life. I slept for around 70 of the 72 hours with a high fever, not being able to get up or eat. After those three days, I had enough. I got dressed and hopped on one of the villagers motorcycles. We traveled for about 20 minute to the nearest hospital. Now when I say hospital, I mean single room of the side of a run down highway with no one who speaks English. No tests were taken, I was just given 6 random prescription medications for the price of $4 and by the grace of God I recovered over the next couple days.
Finally, I was able to participate in ministry. We evangelized, encouraged, and loved on children. I learned in a small village by the India border what our church body and community is truly supposed to look like. When I think of the book of Acts, I think back to that village. Every night around 8 o’clock, the 20 some Christians from the village gather into one small bedroom. This became even more interesting when 15 American size men decided to join. As uncomfortable as it may sound, we came to love it. A genuine body of Christ that did not gather for food or because there were nice padded seats. Rather, to indulge into each others lives and discover how they could help each other through their journeys.
On one of the final days of our ministry there, we had no idea what was about to happen. Following two church services, our team was asked to volunteer at a Christian assembly. That volunteering ended up looking like playing cards in the dirt for 2 hours because none of us understood a lick of Nepali. Towards the end something caught our attention. There was an English speaking woman preaching. We noticed how some of the things that she was saying were unbiblical. She proceeded to gather hundreds of the locals at the foot of the stage so that she could pray over them. When she began to yell her prayers over the loud speakers dozens of the people started to become possessed and oppressed by demons. Immediately, our team jumped into action. We disregarded all that the false prophet had to say and sought refuge in the truth of scripture. The 15 of us dispersed from the crowd to the stage. We worked together like the body of Christ ought to and through His power, we were able to cast out dozens of demons.
After leaving that village, 18 of the next 30 hours were spent on a bus. Our destination this time was the Annapurna mountain range in the Himalayas. We trekked about 15 miles over the next 3 days and were overcome with God’s extraordinary creation. We went village to village praying and encouraging people. There is such a power in a true man of God and I am blessed to be able to serve alongside 14 true men of God. Together this month, we have not had one day without severe sickness. From the villages to the mountains, we carried each others loads, and what we could not carry for each other, God took for us. With the strength this group of men carries, there is no other explanation for the sickness than Satan’s attacks. Stinks for him though because the battle is already won.
While this month is winding down, I am fully starting to be able to process everything. Our team is back in Katmandu and have been able to rest. This morning I was able to listen to a video recording of my Pop-Pop’s funeral. As racers, I feel as though we become numb to the extraordinary opportunity we have, and just where we are in life. After listening to that recording today, I looked outside, turns out that I am in Nepal. I look to my middle brother, turns out he is in Uganda. I look to my oldest brother, turns out that he just returned from India and is working in the same ministry that my Great-Grandfather founded. While we are all over the world, we are where we are for two reasons. First and foremost to serve our incredible God. Second of all is a result of our deep heritage. Forever remaining two of my most prized possessions through any trial.
