Showing posts with label Nepal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nepal. Show all posts
Misty Mountains
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.
Meet Sabin
I'm currently on my way back to Kathmandu as I write this. It's been a long, hard, but good week and I'm ready to get back to 514, the guest house that is now like home. I've said it before, and it's still true-- so much has happened over the past month that I don’t have a lot of mental energy left to put together cohesive thoughts and feelings. But though I can’t summarize what’s been going on and how I’m feeling, I can share small stories of what God has been up to here in Nepal. And that’s what I want to do . . .
My mind goes back to a moment last week. I sat on a stool in the middle of our camp, clutching a bag of cola gummies. I’d saved these for three days, knowing that I would thank myself for having them in Dhading. We’d just spent two days doing hard physical labor and eating only daal bhat, spoonfuls of peanut butter, and Clif bars. The thought of eating something different, something that tasted a little bit like familiar Kathmandu, was more comforting than I expected. But that last night in the village, as much as eating the candy had been on my mind, I didn't want it anymore. I wanted to give every one of the gummies away, and I wanted to give them all to Sabin.
The night I met Sabin, he seemed like just another street boy that had followed us through the village. But I quickly began to realize that this boy is something special. For one thing, my first memory of him is looking up to see him scaling a mango tree, barefoot, to give us a pre-dinner snack. There were mangoes raining down everywhere as he shook the limbs high above. We collected a bucket full of mangoes that lasted us the rest of our trip.
That first night over dinner, the conversation flowed as freely as the Nepali tea that accompanies every meal. I listened to Sabin joining parts of conversation, yet I had no clue what he was saying. Someone leaned over and smiled as they said, "Listen, he has the cutest speech impediment." And he did have a speech impediment because Sabin has a cleft palate. His words came out all jumbled and precious, and communication meant gesturing and nodding and pointing, along with lots of smiling. The only time I really understood him was when he sang 10,000 Reasons or Dhanyabad Jesu ("thank you Jesus") to us.
The next morning, Sabin was back for breakfast on his way to school. And that's when I got bits of his story. He's twelve years old, with little known about his father and no mention of his mother. Sabin walks a long way every day to this camp, a place where he gets food and so much love. Then he walks to school, barefoot. The ministry we were working with has befriended him during their time in his village. And they had just gotten permission from his father to take Sabin into Kathmandu. He'll have corrective surgery for his cleft palate and then be placed in a children's home + Christian school.
My heart was slowly knit to Sabin's over the course of my time in Dhading. The last day there, a teammate and I stayed back to "guard" the camp. It was a restful morning and a busy afternoon, and it became more enjoyable the second Sabin got back from school. He walked up to the group of kids that was gathered around me reading Ephesians. With a few jumbled words, they smiled at me and asked for a Bible. I have no clue what Sabin said, but I was glad he was there. And my gratitude for him grew deeper when a woman wandered into our area with a bad cough. She pointed and asked for medicine, which we didn't have. Chloe and I were lost for what to do & how to make her understand, when Sabin walked up and closed his eyes, laid a hand on her, and then gestured that we should pray for her. So we did. We prayed that Jesus would heal her cough and her heart.
And then the rest of the afternoon, Chloe took a nap and Sabin and I hung out. He sang 10,000 Reasons, so I pulled out my phone and played the song for him. His eyes lit up when he recognized the song, and he sat contentedly for longer than I expected-- eyes closed, gently rocking, holding my iPhone, humming along with Rend Collective. Talk about beauty that broke my heart. I don't know if Sabin knows Jesus, but I know that he's seen Christ's love. As we played worship music together, I prayed for Sabin's heart. There's something so cool about praying for the unreached when a little boy is sitting in your lap.
Sabin wandered away after dinner, but I waited for him to come back. I was excited to give him cola gummies and watch his reaction. But he never came back. . . But you know, I think I'll see him again. I think he's so close to meeting Jesus. Sabin gave me hope for Nepal, hope for the spread of the kingdom throughout the unreached, hope for Gods plan for him & for me. The gospel is at work here, and Sabin is just one example. I can't wait to find Sabin in 10 years and see all the great things I'm sure he'll be doing.
Processing
If you sat in on one of our team check-ins at the end of the day, you'd hear each of us share how we are feeling. We're often all over the place-- from feeling content and happy to feeling really uncomfortable or sick or just spiritually heavy. If you listened in, you'd also hear the word "process" a lot.
Though sometimes I feel like we overuse the word, processing is a huge part of this summer. I'm sitting here in a coffee shop, trying to figure out how I'm really feeling and what I'm really thinking. And honestly, I can't figure it out.
Today is the halfway point of our trip. (Which is insane, because part of me feels like we just landed and the other part feels like we've lived here and known each other forever.) The nine of us have seen, felt, and experienced so many things.
We've walked around and prayed over the largest Buddhist temple.
We've visited children's homes and played with the most precious kids you'll ever meet.
We've ridden elephants through the jungle.
We've attended a Nepali boy's birthday party, solely because his grandfather was thankful that we stayed in the hotel he owned.
We've worshiped with Nepali believers and with missionaries and had team worship on the roof under the stars.
We've talked to people living on the street & given food to hungry children.
We've trekked to a small village and spent days clearing rubble leftover from the earthquake.
We've prayed over sick people and talked to villagers who have never heard of Jesus.
We've mastered getting around Kathmandu, especially in taxis where the drivers are often hilarious and the traffic is insane.
We've spent many hours in a van, learning that I can sleep almost anywhere.
We've helped count beads for Beauty for Ashes, an organization that employs at-risk women to make jewelry.
We've grown closer as a team than I ever thought possible.
We've learned about the best restaurants in our neighborhood-- where to eat local food and where to eat "safe" American food.
We've taken Nepali lessons and practiced talking to everyone we meet.
We've visited the Indian border, accidentally going into India. (Now there's a great story!)
We've met women who spend their days preventing trafficking & heartache.
We've eaten dal baht at a traditional Nepali home.
We've met so many incredible people who are working tirelessly for the kingdom.
. . . And those are just the things I can think of off the top of my head.
. . . And we're merely at the halfway point.
So yeah, you try and form sentences about what's been happening and how you're feeling. It's tough. There's a lot to process through. Because we're not just focused on right here and now. This trip doesn't end in three weeks when we fly home. We're also here, trying to think about "What now? What do I do with this? How does this affect life after Nepal? How do I go home after seeing this?" It's a daily thing-- and the busyness never stops. There's always another lesson to learn, another experience to be had.
One day this week, I was feeling particularly overwhelmed. I was alone in a remote village, "guarding" our campsite with only one other teammate while the rest of the team & Nepali staff were doing relief work. I had so many thoughts and emotions, yet every time I sat down to sort through them, I couldn't. It was frustrating, yet I knew God was working and teaching me something. Just as I decided to work through everything & decipher what is going on in my head, these two Nepali girls wandered up to our camp. They sat at my table with me & we exchanged snacks. Through awkward gestures and broken English, they asked what I was reading. I showed them my Bible and eventually gave them their own Nepali Bibles. As they left to return to school, more boys came to talk with us. And for the next three hours, we were never alone at our camp. I got to talk with kids, read Ephesians with boys who were about to leave for college, explain the gospel to a crowd, pray over a sick woman, feed little kids fresh mangos, teach my little buddy Sabin to play music on my iPhone, and simply enjoy life in the foothills of the Himalayas.
Once the team returned and the day got quieter, I pulled out my journal as I watched the sun set. The last thing I had written was, "I need this time alone. I have so much to think and work through. I need to figure out what God is teaching me." Yet, that's not what I truly needed-- the day had proven that. God knew what I needed more than figuring out His will and my next steps. He knew that what I needed was to simply be with Him and rest in Him. He brought people to me, I didn't have to go out and find them or decipher His will. It was there. He had it under control.
It's so refreshing to know that in the midst of this huge trip, I don't have to figure it all out or have it all together. God knows what He's doing with my life. He'll make it clear. What's most important now is that I follow Him, always staying close to Him. In the waiting and in the processing, He's here. I don't have to sit down and overthink each event and what it could possibly teach me. I tried that, it's exhausting. All I have to do is say "yes" to Jesus, and he'll lead. He'll use me for great things.
And I'm so excited to see what's coming next. We're leaving this morning for Pokhara, where we will (FINALLY) visit the Dream Center and run a kids camp. Then it's back to Kathmandu for ten final days of projects and diving into service. It's going to be great. I can't wait to fall even deeper in love with Jesus & follow Him in loving the nations.
(Also, thanks for reading my blog posts, even when they're jumbled thoughts. It means so much to see that so many people are following my journey and constantly praying for me!)
Though sometimes I feel like we overuse the word, processing is a huge part of this summer. I'm sitting here in a coffee shop, trying to figure out how I'm really feeling and what I'm really thinking. And honestly, I can't figure it out.
Today is the halfway point of our trip. (Which is insane, because part of me feels like we just landed and the other part feels like we've lived here and known each other forever.) The nine of us have seen, felt, and experienced so many things.
We've walked around and prayed over the largest Buddhist temple.
We've visited children's homes and played with the most precious kids you'll ever meet.
We've ridden elephants through the jungle.
We've attended a Nepali boy's birthday party, solely because his grandfather was thankful that we stayed in the hotel he owned.
We've worshiped with Nepali believers and with missionaries and had team worship on the roof under the stars.
We've talked to people living on the street & given food to hungry children.
We've trekked to a small village and spent days clearing rubble leftover from the earthquake.
We've prayed over sick people and talked to villagers who have never heard of Jesus.
We've mastered getting around Kathmandu, especially in taxis where the drivers are often hilarious and the traffic is insane.
We've spent many hours in a van, learning that I can sleep almost anywhere.
We've helped count beads for Beauty for Ashes, an organization that employs at-risk women to make jewelry.
We've grown closer as a team than I ever thought possible.
We've learned about the best restaurants in our neighborhood-- where to eat local food and where to eat "safe" American food.
We've taken Nepali lessons and practiced talking to everyone we meet.
We've visited the Indian border, accidentally going into India. (Now there's a great story!)
We've met women who spend their days preventing trafficking & heartache.
We've eaten dal baht at a traditional Nepali home.
We've met so many incredible people who are working tirelessly for the kingdom.
. . . And those are just the things I can think of off the top of my head.
. . . And we're merely at the halfway point.
So yeah, you try and form sentences about what's been happening and how you're feeling. It's tough. There's a lot to process through. Because we're not just focused on right here and now. This trip doesn't end in three weeks when we fly home. We're also here, trying to think about "What now? What do I do with this? How does this affect life after Nepal? How do I go home after seeing this?" It's a daily thing-- and the busyness never stops. There's always another lesson to learn, another experience to be had.
One day this week, I was feeling particularly overwhelmed. I was alone in a remote village, "guarding" our campsite with only one other teammate while the rest of the team & Nepali staff were doing relief work. I had so many thoughts and emotions, yet every time I sat down to sort through them, I couldn't. It was frustrating, yet I knew God was working and teaching me something. Just as I decided to work through everything & decipher what is going on in my head, these two Nepali girls wandered up to our camp. They sat at my table with me & we exchanged snacks. Through awkward gestures and broken English, they asked what I was reading. I showed them my Bible and eventually gave them their own Nepali Bibles. As they left to return to school, more boys came to talk with us. And for the next three hours, we were never alone at our camp. I got to talk with kids, read Ephesians with boys who were about to leave for college, explain the gospel to a crowd, pray over a sick woman, feed little kids fresh mangos, teach my little buddy Sabin to play music on my iPhone, and simply enjoy life in the foothills of the Himalayas.
Once the team returned and the day got quieter, I pulled out my journal as I watched the sun set. The last thing I had written was, "I need this time alone. I have so much to think and work through. I need to figure out what God is teaching me." Yet, that's not what I truly needed-- the day had proven that. God knew what I needed more than figuring out His will and my next steps. He knew that what I needed was to simply be with Him and rest in Him. He brought people to me, I didn't have to go out and find them or decipher His will. It was there. He had it under control.
It's so refreshing to know that in the midst of this huge trip, I don't have to figure it all out or have it all together. God knows what He's doing with my life. He'll make it clear. What's most important now is that I follow Him, always staying close to Him. In the waiting and in the processing, He's here. I don't have to sit down and overthink each event and what it could possibly teach me. I tried that, it's exhausting. All I have to do is say "yes" to Jesus, and he'll lead. He'll use me for great things.
And I'm so excited to see what's coming next. We're leaving this morning for Pokhara, where we will (FINALLY) visit the Dream Center and run a kids camp. Then it's back to Kathmandu for ten final days of projects and diving into service. It's going to be great. I can't wait to fall even deeper in love with Jesus & follow Him in loving the nations.
(Also, thanks for reading my blog posts, even when they're jumbled thoughts. It means so much to see that so many people are following my journey and constantly praying for me!)
Nothing Can Prepare You
You can read about trafficking. You can watch documentaries and go to conferences. You can sit through meetings and hear about the work being done to prevent it. But nothing can prepare you to actually be right where trafficking is happening. Nothing can prepare you to experience those emotions. Nothing can prepare you for a rickshaw drive across the border into India where there's chaos and trash and no one speaks English and everyone is staring because you obviously don't belong.
You can know that children live on the streets. You can read about what people are doing to help. You can know facts and statistics and strategies. But nothing can prepare you to walk the streets of Thamel (the tourist district of Nepal) and have a three year old tap your hip, asking for money. Nothing can prepare you to walk by children lifting up their shirts to show you their skinny bellies, asking for food. Nothing can prepare you to feel so helpless because you don't know how to truly make a difference.
You can read about how people are living in unthinkable conditions. You can take a class in your comfortable American school and discuss poverty. You can know that it's out there and I guess we Americans have it good. But nothing can prepare you to fully immerse yourself in a third world country. Nothing can prepare you to be riding by slums and dumps where people are digging through trash for their next meal or something to sell for a few rupees. Nothing can prepare you to see the Bagmati river (the one that smells terrible and basically functions as a trash dump) where people live along the sides day after day.
You can know about other religions. You can know that not everyone knows about Jesus. You can know that people are dying without the gospel every single day. But nothing, nothing can prepare you to see an entire city and know that the vast majority of these people will die and go to hell. Nothing can prepare you to visit a Buddhist temple and watch people who have traveled for days to visit pray and hope to earn something that they never will. Nothing can prepare you to see devout Hindus and know that they are so far from truth. As I'm writing this, I'm watching a woman on the rooftop next to mine pray at a shrine on her roof and a man in his garden praying in his temple. There's a bell on the corner that gets rung every morning to awaken the gods, and every time I hear it my heart sinks. There is such darkness here. It's thick, it's oppressive.
My prayer since I set foot in this country is that God would open my eyes. I knew seeing things like these was coming-- and it's so hard. Living in Nepal is very hard. I knew that it would be. But being here and living through this is totally different than any expectations.
I've never seen a place with such deep darkness and unanswered questions. But equally as present is a beautiful light. Though I feel helpless, there are people here who are making a difference. And there is a purpose for my being here. God is using this trip to completely transform my life for His glory.
Though Nepal is broken, it's beautiful. The Creator is evident everywhere you turn. (I mean, really, have you seen the Himalayas? Have you seen the sunrise over Kathmandu or played in a Himalayan river? Have you ridden through the jungle on the back of an elephant? I have, and they're the perfect places to worship.) God has his fingerprints all over Nepal. The people are kind and generous. The believers are passionate and my heroes.
And on top of it all, there is Light. Jesus is here. His church is quickly growing, despite hardships. The light shines much brighter when the night is darkest. There is hope in the hopeless, you just have to know where to look.
So no, I never could have prepared for what I've seen these past two weeks. I don't have answers to these questions. I don't know how to go back home having seen what I've seen. I don't even know how to spend my last ten days when I have the opportunity to serve and do practically anything. But yet I know one thing: I can rest. God knows. He's here, he's leading me and drawing me to himself. He's a good, good Father. And I'm loved by Him. And that changes everything.
One Week Down
We have explored Kathmandu, worshipped in Nepali church, grown closer as a team, visited three children's homes, played with street children, fed the hungry, prayed over a Buddhist stupa, moved waaaaay past my comfort zone, and have heard many people's stories. It's been beautiful, it's been hard.
But at the same time, in the midst of all the darkness, I'm faced with such brilliant Light. I'm blown away. Jesus is so patient with me. He's loving as I've struggled to adjust to life in Nepal, he's patient as I've failed to listen to his voice.
Nepal has been the hardest week of my life (and some moments it's overwhelming to think that there are five more weeks coming!) but it has been the most beautiful and transformational eight days. I have changed in huge ways. I have fallen deeper in love with Jesus than ever before. I have so many stories to share of how God has worked and grown me. I have pictures to paint for you of ways that He has drawn hearts to Him. I have stories of the people that I've met and the children that I've played with that will soften your heart.
The stories will come, eventually. Right now, I'm learning to be fully present and to let God open my eyes and teach me. I realize now that when i thought about writing about this summer, I was coming from a very western mindset. I (foolishly) pictured writing about what God is doing in a comfortable place, with plenty of rest (and therefore energy), air conditioning, wifi, and a working computer. I now have literally have none of those things-- and I love it. But writing will probably be less frequent than I hoped. There is a time for processing, and a time for sharing. And now is the time to soak in what God has for this moment in Nepal.
Today we leave for the Indian border & an elephant reserve (!!!!!). Please, please continue to pray for our team. Health & safety is not something we take for granted, especially here. We need Jesus every moment. Pray for us to stay grounded in Him and focused on others. Pray for Carly as she leads our team and works out logistics. Pray for the people that we interact with-- we want them to see Christ in us.
Jamasi!
(Victory in Jesus)
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