I’m sure you all remember my first hike with World Race. If you don’t, I’ll recap quickly. We hiked 2.2 miles in 38 minutes with fully packed bags on our backs. It was hard, but we did it.
And boy am I glad we did.
Because Nepal is literally ALL MOUNTAINS.
The majority of my ministry was made up of bussing and/or walking/hiking to different homes and churches to fellowship with believers of the community. I gained a little muscle, along with a few scrapes and bruises. No biggie. I also gained a new appreciation for the North Carolina mountains, which only comes to maybe a third of the size of the Himalayas.
Judging by the fact that you’re now reading this blog because you’ve read the title and decided to have a good laugh today, I’m guessing you’re hoping for a good hiking story.
And I don’t like to disappoint.
Day 2 of ministry. We’re hiking a few hours for ministry. One. Way. And that one way is down to the bottom of the valley, which means, you guessed it, we’ve got to hike all the way back up.
Before you get too worried for me (so sweet of you), I would like to say that Nepal does not participate in ungodly amounts of humidity, is fairly breezy, and has shade that actually feels like shade. And the hike down was actually rather pleasing. Yes, it was a little long, but the incline was not by any means bad, and the views were amazing.
Anyway, the time comes for us to leave, and we’re all admittedly tired and a little wary of our hours’ walk back up. But don’t fear, the pastor has a shortcut! We’ve got our trusty host by our side, and his encouragement: “Yes, you can do, because it is easier. Pastor takes three times a week.” 50-year-old pastor, I’m 22, I don’t have a pack, and it’s going to be less time.
Ok, so if you come to Nepal and decide to hike, just know that easy to them would probably be equivalent to what a mountain goat sees as easy.
We start walking and it’s not long before I’m thinking, I won’t be able to get all the way up without using my hands, because it’s STRAIGHT UP THE ROCKWALL OF A MOUNTAIN. I kid you not. Also, if you come to Nepal and ask to hike a mountain, they will take you straight to snow-capped Everest, because what we call mountains in the states they call hills. HILLS.
I’ll save you from too many of the embarrassing details, because, yes, even you would be embarrassed just by reading them. But by the last quarter mile of the climb, I have lost all oxygen, my legs hurt so bad I’m considering amputation, and I’ve wondered a few times what life would be like living right there on the side of the mountain, because I’m close to setting up shop permanently. The sweat is real, and my pants may be ripped; I don’t know, and honestly, it’s the least of my worries. The pastor, however, is bouncing up the rocks, maybe two beads of sweat on his forehead, and he keeps turning around and smiling at us, saying, “Soon.”
It’s here that I realize that this pastor doesn’t think this hike is easy because he’s Nepali and likes to hike. He doesn’t even find it easy. He has no choice but to hike. His church is in the valley, but his house is on the mountain. If he wants to eat and sleep, he’s got to hike.
That’s life. There are so many times I’ve been in a valley, and my only option was up. I would even go so far to say that many of the times I’ve been at the bottom, I’ve been there with a purpose, whether I’ve realized it or not. Regardless, each time I’ve had to make the decision to climb back up.
I’ve lived a fairly fortunate life thus far, and I will readily say so after seeing some of the villages in the southern regions of Asia. But I’ve also lived through hardships that I think no young girl should ever have to live through. There were times when I dug myself into a pit through choices I made, but there were also times I was placed there against my will. The question remains the same, though: will I climb back out?
I think that’s one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my life. It doesn’t matter how you got to be in the bottom of that valley, or even if you have the strength on your own to climb out. It matters that you make the decision to get out. And that’s the hardest part; convincing yourself that it can happen, and knowing that the reality of standing on the mountain top is, well, real.
And here’s the other thing. You can, of course, choose to skim through the rest of this blog, not giving much thought to what I have to say. But if you’re in the valley staring up the wall of rocks, or if you’ve ever been there, please just hear me out. The climb is so much more worth it if you allow Jesus to do it with you. Unfortunately, it’s become a little cliche to say that, but it’s so true. Everytime I ‘climbed’ out of my valley, I ended up right back in it, because I was climbing to a place on a mountain that would eventually crumble beneath me. But as soon as I decided to give Jesus a go, I began to climb a mountain that, though it’s sometimes harder, is far more solid. I have yet to stop climbing to the next highest peak, and each has it’s own beauty to offer.
So, while the actual climb itself doesn’t really ever get easier, with or without Jesus, the decision to climb does. With each step and each achievement, the want becomes greater, and the decision becomes easier. Take it from the girl who climbed in the Himalayas, it does.
