It is incredible here in so many ways. Asia really is another world.
Why be plain when things could be colorful? Everything is full of color here. Even the buses and dump trucks are decked out, incredibly ornate.
We have visited over 20 churches all over the cities and countryside of Nepal. We have been led beside green pastures, still waters, and our Coke overflows. No seriously, every place we go they go out, and buy big liters of Coke or Sprite as a treat (something they never have themselves) and fill our cups again and again until it’s gone.
When we arrive at church they give us the best seats, often demanding we sit in chairs while everyone else sits on the floor. They give us flowers from their gardens, perform dances they’ve created for our welcoming, and wrap us in traditional scarves they’ve collected money in order to purchase for us as gifts. They say again and again how happy they are for us to be there with them, to meet us, spend time with us, learn from us. One man excitedly exclaimed, “No one has ever visited our church before!”.
We get to be a part of their service, usually a special service they’ve put together because they heard we were coming. They worship loudly and with passion. Always clapping their hands, sometimes using drums and tambourines. Making me think every time of so many of the Psalms. Their songs climb in joy and exuberance. As do their prayers.
In our time here we’ve learned a few Nepali words and phrases, so I can often pick them out in conversation when locals are talking…
Do you know what words I hear the most in all of their prayers? No matter which church, in the nicest and the poorest? In every home?
“Doh-neh-bahd” … “Thank You”.
They are so grateful. In the monsoons, landslides, 113 degree heat. After the earthquake. In the churches in the middle of the jungle with no road access. In the churches in one tiny rented room in an apartment building.
They listen eagerly to every bit of God’s word. Our host Pastor asked if we could make our sermons longer because they want to hear more.
They stop their work in the rice fields during harvest and travel hours and miles to come, have church on a Wednesday and hear us.
But we get to hear them.
Incredible testimonies of the Lord’s provision, and His miraculous healing power. One woman tried to kill herself 3 different times, 3 different ways because she was suffering so greatly from paralysis and pain in her body, and emotional pain in her heart. After the 3rd attempt, Jesus came to her in a dream. He told her “Your name is written in the book of life”. Then angels came, anointed her with oil and healed her. When she woke the next day, her pain and paralysis (something she had suffered with for years and had witnesses to) were completely gone!
This is just one of the “rock-my-world” testimonies we’ve been privileged to hear.
They thank us over and over for our teachings and our prayers.
But we are the ones being taught.
One particular church I shared my testimony and they had me come forward so they could pray over me and all the things I shared in it. They prayed for each individual in my family, all the important people in my life, the future God holds for me. As I sat, tears streaming down my face in awe.
They thank us with fervency for everything we are giving them.
But we are the ones receiving.
One service, someone overheard us say in passing that it was the 4th of July. So that day, in that tiny church way up in the mountains of Nepal, they prayed for America.
At the end of each service, in every church, every time, they call our team to the front and the entire church prays over us. For countless moments they shower us in blessings and cover us in prayer. For the rest of our travels, for our ministries, our futures, and most importantly, for our relationships with Christ.
And every time I am humbled.
Then they cook for us. Our whole group. Over no more than 2 burners, or a fire, from scratch. They fix their best for us. They fill our plates to overflowing and come around offering seconds and thirds until they are sure we’re full to bursting before they ever eat a bite. They splurge on more sodas and mangos and the whole time treat us like queens. When they find out we really like something, like “Nepalese milk tea” it’s served to us almost every day. And every time I am touched.
We don’t deserve any of it. Who am I? I’m not the royalty of America visiting their small church in Nepal. But they treat us like it. I haven’t touched on the half of it. That is just their culture. That is just who the Nepalese people are.
But I will remember every time.
It rains a lot here in Nepal, and I know why.
Because here there is extra life.
