“You can choose to do door to door evangelism or stay and love on the kids.”
My heart was beating fast and my mind racing. Which one do I choose? It would be fun to spend time with the children of the slums in Nepal, but deep down I knew God was calling me to go door to door and pray for the sick, cast out demons, and share the gospel.
“This side of the room is going to stay with the kids…”
I stood frozen for a second. Was this a sign I was meant to be with the children? But my heart, guided by the gentle hand of the Holy Spirit, knew I had to make a stand.
“Unless you feel led to do door to door evangelism.”
The one delegating looked right at me as my hand shot up without me even realizing it. My feet moved to the other side of the room, now confident I was where God wanted me to be. Others followed suit and the entire room shuffled as we were set into place, like a composer perfectly assigning each note, melody and harmony to each horn, woodwind, and percussion section. Six of us formed the team.
We ventured out down the narrow alleys less than two feet wide that separated house from house. Each house was ingeniously made out of metal slates, rice bags, bamboo, and mud. We asked the Holy Spirit to lead us.
Suddenly I found myself joining my team in a tiny house, smaller than my bedroom at home, that housed a family of 3. They were believers who loved Jesus fiercely. My team was huddled around the husband, praying for Jesus to open his blind eyes. The wife sat on the bed, praying fervently for her husband. I joined in the prayer as we as a body of believers lifted our brother in prayer. Worship filled the house as we sang acapella, crying out to our Father, changing the atmosphere in that dark place.
A woman we hadn’t met came through the door and started crying. She didn’t speak English and had no idea what was going on, but like a moth drawn to a flame, her broken soul was drawn to the Light of the world. One of my teammates reached out her hand and began to intercede for her, praying in an unknown language with passion and fervor. The woman responded with even more tears. However, this holy moment was interrupted as a man came and grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her out of the house. I stopped, awestruck at what had just happened. I knew this woman needed to be spoken to through our translator, but he had been busy translating for the rest of the family. My heart heavy, I began to pray for her. One of the people with the man motioned with her hands that the woman was drunk and they thought she was disturbing us. They shut the door, trying to contain the hand of God. But my God can’t be put in a box or shut out.
A little shaken, I cast my eyes back on Jesus and the man who needed healing. We prayed a third time, washing his eyes with water. After the prayer, he said that he could start to see light and some shapes. We pressed in one more time. This time, we asked his wife to lay hands on him, as I felt the Holy Spirit prompting her to do so. We prayed.
“She’s holding up four fingers!”
It was a miracle. He could see about two feet in front of his face. His farsightedness did not return in the moment, but for the first time he could see out of his left eye. Formerly in darkness, the light now overwhelmed his new retina. We prayed one more time for him and then his daughter to not have any more night terrors. On the verge of tears and still processing what I had just witnessed (something I had been seeking and asking and desiring to see for so many years), we stepped out into the alleyway again.
Word had gotten out and spread quickly among the Christians who lived there that we were there and praying for the sick. A beautiful weathered face welcomed us into her home to pray for her son. The moment I saw him, my heart was absolutely wrecked.
He was laying on a bed, covered by a sheet. His limbs were permanently twisted, like tree roots. He was paralyzed and unable to walk. The only mobility he had from the neck down was to move one of his arms up and down slowly. He was probably in his twenties or thirties, but had the mental capacity of a young child. He was beautiful.
I kneeled beside his bed and held his frail hand in mine. He greeted me with the Nepali christian greeting and a smile that melted my heart.
I began to pray healing and life into his deformed body. But looking into his eyes, I realized that it didn’t matter whether or not he got healed. This precious soul knew Jesus on a more intimate level than any of us can even imagine or comprehend. God loved him exactly as he was, perfectly, and was using him exactly as he was. Instead of me ministering to him, he ministered to me.
I saw Jesus in his eyes.
I felt His love and joy in his smile.
I utterly broke down. I openly wept, overwhelmed by the love this boy displayed for the Lord, the love his mother showed to him, and the love that God feels toward him.
I was honored that I got to encourage him, to hold his beautiful hand, and see that smile that will forever echo in my soul.
Through the sobs, I sang out Jesus Loves Me over this precious soul. Each time the words washed over him, his smile grew bigger and bigger.
It was a taste of heaven here on earth, found in the slums of Nepal.
My heart was then turned towards his mother, a noble woman, a godly woman who has endured so much pain and hardship. In a third world country, the handicapped aren’t always treated with love and respect. It’s a heavy burden to care for someone completely dependent on you for everything, unable to even feed themselves. Imagine doing this while being the poorest of the poor, the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, well below the poverty line.
I knelt on the dirt floor, took her hands into my hands, and rested my bowed head against her bowed head. She earnestly prayed to her Rock and Redeemer, as I prayed to the same Rock. I wept over her as well, touched at her unconditional, Christlike love for her son and her passion for the Lord. She did not question His goodness or doubt His hand in her life, despite all of the unspeakable challenges and trials she had walked through in her life here on this soil. Instead it pushed her ever deeper into her hiding place and fortress. It challenged and encouraged my own devotion to the Lord. I was humbled to be able to be a broken vessel pouring refreshing living water into her soul.
We once again stepped into the alley, and I could hardly walk I was so completely undone. Yet the Lord had us visit one last house. Kneeling on the dirt floor, I laid hands on my recently saved sister who was still struggling with the temptation of drinking. My teammate and I prayed for her to be delivered and set free from the spirit of addiction. She was set free from the chains that had been holding her.
We finished our adventure by praying for one of our teammate’s to receive the gift of tongues, which she did.
Blind eyes see, captives set free, loving the unloved, I found heaven in the slums of Nepal.
“…For you see, the kingdom of God is in your midst.” Luke 17:20
