We have just arrived back in Kathmandu after our trek into the Himalayan mountains. After 7 hours in the car, we have gorged ourselves on fried rice. The team is dropping around me like flies. I will probably follow suit soon, but since my iPad and I have just been reunited *cue music* I thought I would try to get down some thoughts while they were still fresh.
We began three days ago; we awoke early-ish and got on the road by 8:00. We drove to Pokhara, another of the larger cities in Nepal, a journey which took us about 7 hours, over bumpy roads interspersed with flooded roads. (It’s monsoon season here, so everything is pretty much soaked at least once a day.) From there, we trekked another couple of hours up the mountain to get to our teahouse to stay the night. Teahouses here are like mini-hotels; if you ever went to summer camp and had a little cabin with four beds, they’re kind of like that. We drank tea as the clouds swept in around us, and by the time we had finished dinner, the mountains were cloaked in dense, impenetrable fog. The silence was broken only by the occasional trickle of water.
We awoke early the next day ( well, everyone else did; I accidentally set my alarm for 6 PM, so I slept quite happily until about five minutes before breakfast.) We ate quickly, and then we were off.
When I think of the Himalayan mountains, I think of Everest -all snow and rock and the vicious will of nature- or of the abominable snowman from Monsters, Inc., all snow and rock and lemon snowcones. I can inform you that I had it all wrong. There were no snowcones or snow, or abominable snowmen. There were, however, plenty of rocks, verdant jungle, and of course, the vicious will of nature.
Monsoon season means water. Water means plant growth, and plant growth means slippery rocks covered in slippery algae-like plants. Water also means that the clay-like mud will also be delightfully slippery. The aforementioned conditions mean that if you are not super careful, you might slip and land on your side, your butt, or down the side of a mountain. Our little enclave managed all but the last one, although Paris made a noble attempt before Tiffany caught him. No, you read that right, Tiffany caught Paris. It was awesome. One leg off in the sky, and the rest on the trail. Go Tiffany.
On the whole, Heather had the worst of it. While we all slipped a time or two, she fell “on average, once per hour. Which is pretty typical for the World Race.” (She said I could quote her, when I asked her.)
I only fell a few times and avoided serious injury. I didn’t mind the falling so much, but I discovered the one thing that I hate almost as much as snakes: leeches. I refer to them as “heat-seeking vampire worms.” They stand up and wave like blades of grass, waiting for passers by that they can latch onto. The final count comes in at 72 bites, most of which were below the knee, and none of which were on my face or head. Thank God.
We arrived that evening in the little village of Sidhane. As we entered the outskirts, a family of farmers invited us in to share some roasted corn with them. As the corn was roasting, our guide, Deepak, mentioned that since they were considered to be from the lowest caste in Nepal, these people would rarely, if ever, receive visitors from the village. As we sat with them, we spoke about the caste system, and Danielle shared with them about the love of God. Paris spoke about how in the United States, people used to treat people differently based on the color of their skin, but that has changed and continues to change. The gentleman who owned the home shared that he had been searching for something different, and asked if we could leave him a bible. Danielle left hers with him.
Deepak told us how rural communities in Nepal like Sidhane have a difficult time discipline, because access to bibles in those areas is low and there are few churches or pastors in those parts of the country. He is hopeful that I’m the future, he will be able to bring teams back to help establish a church there so a pastor would have a place to live and minister.
We made our way into the village proper, and were welcomed into our home-stay for the night. In Sidhane, the community takes turns hosting outsiders in their homes. We slept hard that night, and awoke early the next morning for more hiking. We had heard that there was a woman who had accepted Christ after being visited by a previous World Race trip, and part of our trip this time was to seek her out and see how she was doing.
We hiked for about an hour and a half, and finally reached her home. As we came to the front door, we were greeted warmly. Something which is a facet of this whole journey that I can never quite get over is that in other countries, strangers come to your door and you give them tea or snacks before anything else. In like, every country so far. It’s a little surprising to me, even after seven months. As Danielle and Heather played with her nine and ten year old daughters, Danielle and Paris spoke with the woman and her husband Purna and Pardham- about Jesus. As they spoke, I watched the reactions from the couple.
Pardham, who had been working in the fields with the children the last time a team had visited, was listening with rapt attention, and only glanced away occasionally to check on the girls. Purna, on the other hand, seemed distracted. “She’s heard this song and dance before,” I thought to myself. I thought about it some more, and asked the Lord what He would have me share. When the conversation hit a natural lull, I spoke up:
“When I first heard about this trek, I was frustrated. I thought about the cost and how we would raise the money, and I was cranky. I talked to the Lord about it, and He told me to let Him worry about the money, and that I should just go on the trek. Then He sent us someone who wanted to fund the entire trip! I began to wonder what God was going to do on this trip, why He was sending us. Deepak told us about a woman who had come to know Christ when the last team came, and that we were going to look for her.
As we’ve been sitting here, I asked Him what he wanted me to share with you. I’ve been thinking about what it must be like for her, to be all alone in her faith, to not have anyone encouraging her or telling her more about this Jesus fellow. If I were her, I might get angry. I might get upset or discouraged. I would wonder where this God is.”
She was watching me intently now, her eyes moist.
“I think the Lord wants me to tell you that He hasn’t forgotten you. He know where you are. Jesus told a story about a shepherd who seeks out one lost sheep and leaves the others; He showed love to a woman who was outcast by her village because of her sin; He crossed a stormy lake in the middle of the night so he could reach one man, show him love, and then go back home. I think He sent us here to tell you that you are not forgotten, and He knows where you are and He loves you. I just wanted to encourage you with that.
I’m not trying to get you to change your religion or believe what I believe. I’m not here to push you or force you or sell you something. Jesus loved people, and I want to share that love with you.”
That seemed to resonate with them. Paris continued speaking with them, and I smiled at Purna; she smiled back. I began to feel so sad for the people in the mountains, who have a sense that God loves them and want to know Jesus more, but who don’t have anyone to disciple them, not even a bible to read. I was pleased to hear that Deepak is planning to bring more teams here in November, and that he will be able to bring Bibles and do some discipleship training with the families we visited, and he is trying to develop a plan to build a church in the area so they can install a pastor in the vicinity for the fledgling Christian community. As my mind was working through everything, the experience opened the door to a much larger discussion.
I know the Bible says that His word will not return void, and I believe that, but I can’t help feeling terrible compassion for people who are left without a pastor or shepherd, alone in the mountains. It must seem so lonely, so cold, to be alone in one’s faith, and without even an understanding of the fullness of what that faith really is! It seems too lackluster, too flimsy, to merely show up and then move on. If we are going to proclaim unfailing love to people, I hope we don’t go back on our words with our deeds. I’m afraid we’re going to, and that thought nags at me.
We climbed down the mountain after seeing them, and three hours later got on the bus to Pokhara. I am glad that I was able to meet Purna and her family. I think I needed to see them. Those wonderful people were so kind, and I sincerely hope that they grow more and know God more deeply. And yes, I worry about the long-term survival of individual believers up in the mountains. It bears thinking about. The analytic part of my brain wants there to be an immediate solution where, frankly, there isn’t one. Only time will tell.
