WARNING: This post is going to be VERY LONG! We Apologize for the length, but we were five days without internet access, and we’ll probably be another three days without starting tomorrow, so we’re posting while we can. Thanks for your indulgence.
When last we reported in, we were on the eve of our trip to Yu Mon, a rural city in western China filled with Tibetan Buddhists. And boy, what a story we have to tell.
The bus ride from Jade Tree to Yu Mon took seven hours, but the time passed quickly because of the amazingly beautiful scenery. Our trip took us further into the mountains, and as our elevation passed 14,000 feet, the slopes around us became blanketed with a thin layer of pristine snow. We passed several Buddhist prayer flags, which resembled huge tents made from strings of brightly colored flags, and every time we passed one, several of the people on our bus threw brightly colored papers with images of Buddha printed on them out of the windows of the bus. This, we later found out, is a common form of Buddhist prayer.
Late in the afternoon, we arrived in Yu Mon. The city was constructed along one main street, with several dirt roads extending from it. A local that I had befriended on the bus pointed out a hotel as we passed by. (It turned out to be the only hotel in town.) The hotel was pretty rough: no heat, a shared ¡°squatty¡± down the hall for a bathroom, broken door locks and windows, and only three hours of electricity per day from seven to ten at night. But it wasn¡¯t like we had many options, and as four white people with gigantic backpacks, we were already drawing a crowd, so we checked in.
We decided to get the lay of the land by trying to find a laundry and an internet caf¨¦. We had only vague hopes of finding either in such a rural place, but we went for it anyway.
Outside, we encountered a young Tibetan man, maybe 20 years old, who offered to help us. Using the phrase book and some body language, we made ourselves understood to our new friend, and he took us where we wanted to go.
We even found an internet caf¨¦. Getting there required journeying down a dirt alley, and navigating an intricate maze of twists and turns through a residential area, until we came to the backyard of a house.
¡°Oh, no,¡± we said. ¡°We don¡¯t want to invade someone¡¯s house just to use their internet connection.¡± But our nameless friend ushered us inside.
We went in.
And there in what we thought to be a house, we found an internet caf¨¦, just like every other one we¡¯ve seen so far, complete with a flock of teenagers playing online games. We were surrounded by curious faces, eager to see what we were doing. As we read our e-mail, they pressed in to look over our shoulders. It was less than ideal.
Also less than ideal was the fact that we could neither send e-mail nor post to our blogs. The limited bandwidth wouldn¡¯t allow it. Bummer.
So, we got up to leave with our nameless friend and his crew in tow. When we returned to the street, we thanked him profusely for his help and bid him good evening.
That¡¯s when things got ugly.
Our ¡°friend¡± demanded payment for his services. And not just for himself, but for each of his friends. We tried to explain that we had no idea he would expect payment, and that we thought he was just being friendly. His demands persisted. We refused and tried to leave by heading into a restaurant for dinner. He and his posse followed us and took up seats next to our table.
By this point, I was agitated. Who was this guy? And why did he think we were going to pay him and his friends? Did he really think that by ruining our meal he would convince us to pay him?
We tried to simultaneously order our food and negotiate with the ruffians. First the price had been three yuan, then five, then five for each of his friends. As I continued to refuse, the guy and one of his friends began to threaten us with fists pounded into hands and cutting gestures along cheeks. I didn¡¯t feel intimidated, but I prepared myself to protect my team should things get physical.
Ultimately, Cathy paid them five yuan just to go away. They did, and we were able to finish our dinner in relative peace.
We returned to our heatless hotel in low spirits. We knew no one in town, could not communicate with the people, knew nothing about where a monastery might be, and we had made enemies with a local gang. Not the best first day ever.
I went back to my room, alone, and called out to God.
¡°Lord, what are you doing? Why did you send us here? This place is so hard, and so cold. I miss my wife, I¡¯m freezing, and I¡¯m miserable! Why, God, why?¡±
His answer came back softly,
¡°Because I¡¯m stripping away your comforts, that you might seek comfort
only in Me.¡±
In that moment, I realized that God¡¯s purposes were being accomplished through all of this. He was chipping away at my self-sufficiency, making me more dependant on Him. Trying to find contentment, but struggling to do so, I prayed for God¡¯s comforting Presence. It was an amazing time of prayer, which seemed almost to warm me supernaturally, and afterward I fell off to sleep in the coziness of my sleeping bag.
The next day, we gathered as a team to plan our next move. Most of us had had similar experiences of the Lord challenging us to refrain from grumbling despite hard circumstances. We resolved to seek the Lord and His purposes and decided to spend a good chunk of the day in our rooms in prayer.
Late in the day, our Latino translator and track-bombing coach, who we will call Willis, arrived. We were very excited to meet him and to have him join our team, if only for a few days. Because Willis spoke hardly any English, I functioned as the translator¡¯s translator. Katherine is so much better at it than I am, and we missed her mightily! But we made due.
While searching for the bus station to buy our return tickets, we met a man on the street who spoke English. His name was Dondrup, and he was clearly God¡¯s way of giving us direction for the week. Dondrup had both an uncle and a brother who were monks at a local monastery. He offered to give us a tour of the monastery the next day.
Score!
So, Tuesday morning we traveled to a monastery for a guided tour. Because we were with Dondrup, we were allowed into a number of temples and sacred places that foreigners are not usually allowed to see. There were all sorts of idols and statues, candles and incense, beautifully crafted curtains, and a creepiness surrounding it all.
There was a long structure that held several dozen prayer wheels, engraved golden canisters about a foot tall set on a post, allowing them to be spun. Buddhists believe that by spinning the wheels, they can atone for bad things they have done and increase their chances of being reincarnated to a better life. And the more wheels spinning, the better.
Around the corner from the prayer wheels, there was a room that contained a giant version of the same thing. The giant prayer wheel must have been at least 10 feet tall, and it was being spun by two older people and a handful of children. Every time the wheel completed one revolution, it would ring a bell. The older man chanted in prayer as he hurriedly walked around the circle of the wheel. It was heartbreaking to see people so deceived, devoting so much time and energy trying to earn a redemption that could be freely theirs, if only they knew and believed.
After seeing a few of the temples, we were invited to Dondrup¡¯s uncle¡¯s dormitory. Dondrup¡¯s brother served us hot water and bread, as well as some dried raw yak meat, which we decided to pass on. As we ate, Dondrup decided to show us some traditional Tibetan dancing. After much prodding and study, I joined in. Eventually, we moved outside and Dondrup, his brother, and another monk danced in the courtyard. I couldn¡¯t resist joining in again.
Later in the afternoon, we saw the monastery on the other side of Yu Mon. It was much smaller than the first one, and seemed chiefly concerned with the production of prayer stones. These rocks were hand-painted and hand-carved with traditional prayers and Tibetan characters. There were tons of them. We saw one pile that was at least 12 feet high and 50 feet long.
There was also the biggest Buddha statue I have ever seen. In the picture to the right, that¡¯s little old 6¡¯3¡± me standing at the base of the statue. Yep, that¡¯s a big Buddha.
Later that evening back at the hotel, we made our plans for the evening. We would sneak up to the first monastery we had seen under the cover of night and place tracts and Bibles written in Tibetan on the prayer wheels we had seen. Willis, Sarah, and I would go, while Ashley and Cathy covered us in prayer from the hotel.
Soon, the hour of our departure came. We donned our darkest and warmest clothes, packed our pockets with literature, and headed out into the street. The lack of street lights in Yu Mon was a blessing for us now, as the goal was to be unseen and inconspicuous.
It was about 1.5 miles to the spot where we turned off the main road and headed up the mountain into the canyon where the monastery awaited us. Dogs were barking everywhere, which was good, because it covered our presence, but it was a little scary because we didn¡¯t know where the dogs were or how close they might be. Slowly, deliberately, we made our way higher and higher up the road.
Back at the hotel, Cathy and Ashley prayed fervently for our success, that God would shield the eyes of people we encountered and close the mouths of the dogs. They prayed that the Spirit would lift us up and give us strength to finish the task, that even the air we breathed would be warmed by God¡¯s Presence with us.
Guided by flashlights, we worked our way up to the monastery. We had one run-in with a dog on a chain that gave us quite a fright, but other than that, it was just the three of us and the darkness.
When we arrived at the base of the monastery, Willis gave us final instructions. We crested the hill and headed for the prayer wheels, placing literature in small stacks every 5 feet or so with rocks on top to keep them from blowing away. In a matter of minutes, the operation was over and we were headed back down the mountain.
The return was much easier for us, given it was all downhill. The adrenaline pumping in our veins kept away both fatigue and cold. We only had a couple of run-ins with cars driving slowly down the street in the middle of the night and a couple of guys fixing a motorcycle, and soon we were back at the hotel. We banged on the chained and padlocked door, and explained to the lady who opened it for us that we had been at a dinner party and had lost track of time. There had been several other late returners that evening, so she wasn¡¯t the least suspicious.
We came into the room that Ashley and Cathy had been praying in, and we celebrated together the success God had given us. We had hiked 6 miles roundtrip, including the climb to the monastery and the placement of the tracts, in about two hours.
We pray that the monks who find the tracts and Bibles would be open to the message of Christ, and that the Spirit would work powerfully to convict their hearts of their need for Jesus.
-Gary, on behalf of Team Doulos (and Cathy)
