It's the best feeling to be able to get around a foreign neighborhood by yourself. I know where the best comfort foods and coffee shops are, I know where to find a cold Sprite. I know how to get myself from my guest house to Thamel and I'm completely comfortable communicating in broken Nepali. I can't believe I've only and already been here for five and a half weeks-- and I thought surely it can't get any better than this.
But then I remember the mountains-- they take your breath away. I have to keep reminding myself that the mountains I see are "merely" foothills of the biggest mountain range in the world. But it's rare that we actually see beyond the foothills and into the snow-covered Himalayas, especially during monsoon season where there is a constant cloud cover. It's a big enough deal that whenever the clouds clear, someone will yell and we'll all come running to see the mountains. (Generally, explaining where to look sounds like, "Okay, see those foothills? And then there's the clouds above them? See that patch of gray and white above the clouds? That's not clouds. That's actually the Himalayas. How cool is that!?")
Our first evening in Pokhara, I caught a glimpse of Fishtail Mountain. And I won't even try to put it into words. It was the most beautiful, awe-inspiring thing. But then, the next morning was a totally different story. I woke up early as usual for some Jesus time on the roof. Walking out onto the patio was basically like walking into a cloud. The fog was thick and dark. Where were the mountains? Forget the Himalayan Range, where are the foothills that are right there across the lake? Yeah, okay, welcome to monsoon season, where the fog never goes away. That morning, I couldn't see the mountains that were right there. I could barely see anything. But as the light came and drove the clouds away, the fog cleared and I saw the mountains again. They got bigger and taller until the sky cleared and the Himalayas appeared. The majesty was there all along, I just couldn't see it because of the fog. (As my dear friend Chloe says. #creditwherecreditisdue.)
Watching the fog clear that morning, and many mornings since, was so good for my soul because it was a picture of my heart. So often, I'm blinded by the fog of my pride, my insecurities, my fears, my flesh. I can't see what's right in front of me. I can't see what God is doing or what He has for me. In the fog, there's darkness that's paralyzing.
The fog looks different every day:
Sometimes I'm blinded by my insecurities + fears. Sometimes I'm blinded by apathy. Sometimes I'm blinded by pride. Sometimes it's comparison. Sometimes it's discontentment or expectations or frustration. There are so many ways that my brokenness is blinding.
But in every one of those times, the Light still shines. My foggy blindness is driven away by truth.
Truth that says that I don't have to be enough, because Christ is enough and He's strong in my weakness.
Truth that says that I am not all that-- I don't have it all together, and that's okay because Jesus uses broken vessels.
Truth that says that I don't have to be like anyone else because I am exactly who God created me to be and I'm exactly who He needs me to be to be used by Him.
Truth that says that the lies I'm believing are just that-- lies.
When the truth comes in and drives away the fog, I see Jesus. I see bits of His plan for His kingdom that is bigger than the Himalayas.
As I've lived and served for the past six weeks, I've seen so much of these mountains. They're incredible. And likewise the Light has come and shown me a bit of how huge God's plans are for my life. The fog is still there, there is still so much to work through and so many unanswered questions. . . But I've caught a glimpse of the majesty and beauty of Jesus. And there's no going back from that.
