Friday, January 26, about half the girls set out for our usual outreach ministry. We hopped on a bus so impatient we had to run to get on. The ride was short, but you could tell we were in a less affluent part of Kathmandu. I had been to this slum the week before, it is mostly Indians and other displaced Asians. Today, our translator, Dilip, took 2 girls with him down to the neighborhood under the freeway to gather kids for a meal. The loose plan was to take as many kids as possible out to lunch and bless their day. I was in the group that waited near the restaurant, and when Dilip returned, I almost didn’t notice the kids. 2 boys in matching blue fleece sweatshirts jumped into the street-side restaurant and waited patiently for the mo:mos. Only 2? Yes, he said, the rest are out begging.
I lost it. Everyone else was happy we found 2 boys, but I was so broken inside. So many others who I’d met previously were spread throughout the city trying to make the best for their families. Of course 2 is good, that’s 2 more boys being touched by the love of God, but I still felt helpless. Here we are, 26 white girls, who have the ability to decide whether or not we will fast for the Lord or buy more chocolate, how can we solve this problem? We can’t, but we can try. As we walked home, I prayed that those 2 boys were the ones God wanted there, he wanted them to meet us. Now they can go back to their homes with full stomachs, with energy to continue rebuilding the new wall around the slum.
I’m writing this while sitting at the soccer field. It’s not what you would think, it’s really just a large swamp in the middle of the city, but we came here to pray for Kathmandu. Looking out on the city, God is speaking. He says, “Just like I bless every bite of food you eat, I have blessed their lunch.” He’s got the whole world in his hands, no one is exempt from that. Nepal has been breaking my heart, the Lord has been breaking my heart for what breaks his. I thought he already did this! I was already heartbroken on the race, I don’t want this feeling again. Fast forward to Monday, and I wrote this in my prayer journal:
“You are doing this over and over again. My heart healed, but you don’t want me to ever be too healthy, because how could I be dependent on you? Break my heart again. Keep tearing me apart so I can call out to you again and again. Seriously, strip me down. I’m confident you will build me back up.”
I committed to crap for 9 months. Also lots of fun, but I committed to letting God grow me, which can feel like crap most of the time. I’m in love with this country, the ministry here is incredibly uniquue, which stretches me to see the world as God does. One day heaven will be on earth, but until then we can only rely on the Lord’s love to carry us through the pain.
