DAY 7: October 6th, 2011
The Prayer House at approximately 7:30 AM
I spent the last evening at the prayer house, a few miles from the house I am staying in. It is a kind of local retreat place for workers at AGAPE. This place seems peaceful and is cleaner than the other place. There is a TV and internet. I am catching up on some school work now. Today is Dasai, a Hindu holiday, so the city is actually moving slower than normal. Most businesses are closed today.
Roshun came here with me last night. He has been most helpful. On the way here it was late and the holiday had already started and we couldn't get a taxi or bus. We saw some, but they passed us by. We were thinking of turning back for the house, but kept waiting and praying to ourselves for a taxi to stop. I remember lightly thinking my prayer for a taxi was either foolish, or just answered because we had to wait so long. We finally walked up the road a bit, and there was one waiting for us. I didn't think too much of the incident until Roshun told me the taxi was a blessing from God.
It seemed like such a simple, almost unimportant event. To me, if a taxi didn't come, we'd just have to head back to the house. Roshun the other hand, was concerned about getting the taxi, and I very much appreciated his child-like faithfulness to God. Roshun is interesting to me. He is very smart and reasonable and helpful. But he also is only 16 years old. I remember when I was 16. My faith was alive as his. Was I naïve in those days? Conversely, is my seeming lack of faith now naïve compared to the miracles – both large and small – that I have heard about during my stay here?
Living with Christians in a city that is largely Hindu is quite fascinating. Religion is very important to these “poor” people – be it Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism or Christianity. They attribute things like whether or not a taxi arrives as a miracle of God. The Christians I am staying with – Brian Williams and Company – tend to the more Pentecostal charismatic branch of Christianity. It's been a while since I'd heard people speak in tongues, and I would be lying if I said I didn't have any reservations to what is actually happening. My darn Western mind is filled with so many questions! And their faith is so child-like. It is a beautiful thing. I remain open and earnest. I can firmly say that I am a Christian, as they are. I definitely appreciate this. My faith is refreshed.
Brian Williams, myself, and two visiting pastors from the UK (both named Peter) had a meeting here last night about what my time and work might look like over the next two and a half months. It appears I will be traveling to villages outside of KTM, as there are probably close to 30 million people living in the villages out in the countryside. I have gathered that in some of these villages, there are virtually no girls left between the ages of 12 and 16. They have all been trafficked through KTM and on into India and elsewhere. I will also be helping the various programs with documentation and fixing some of the grammatical errors on the website, making it look better and more professional for Westerners, who's support is quite necessary. I hope my research and work is beneficial to the AGAPE family.
I was told the other day that I have a “missionary's heart” because I am steeping myself in the people, language and food. Apparently not every foreigner dives in so easily. I replied that it is not hard to enjoy the foreign food when it tastes good. But it occurred to me, coming from my context – which I suppose would be something of an educated Christian Westerner context – that on one hand I am not too fond of this term “missionary.” It seems like a term from another century. I don't mean any disrespect to those who call themselves missionaries, I really don't. They do great work and take on great sacrifices. Maybe I would say I feel more like a Christian anthropologist! I am trying to tread lightly here, but these are honestly some of the things I have struggled with thus far.
On the other hand, if I try to consider the context of those I am staying and serving with in this far away land, if I put away my confounding Western thoughts for a minute, I can fully accept what this person said to mean that I have the heart of someone who is willing and able to share the Love of Christ no matter where on earth the person might be. I don't know if that is me, but I can say that is my goal in life. I don't have to contemplate too deeply to realize that I actually may have come here for more selfish reasons – to finally earn my degree so I can land a better job; to get away from some mundane aspects of life back home; to be a part of an adventure story that takes me to the highest mountain in the world.
A great thing about being on an adventure in a foreign world is that you learn so many lessons about yourself. You cannot help but compare your own situation at home with the people's situation here. You start to realize the areas where you are weak; your own selfishness and materialism. I have been on enough trips like this in the past to have known these thoughts were coming. But each time it hits me with the same power. No matter where you are on the earth, life is so short, so fleeting. What are you living for? No matter how secure you try to make your world, you are always within the palm of His hand. Some people recognize this, some people do not. I don't mean to get melodramatic and preachy here, but I think it's true.
I realize that while I am fully capable of talking about these things philosophically, living them out is a different story. My prayer is that I can look through all of the cultural barriers that exist, both here and back home, and see to the heart of myself and of each person I meet and know. My prayer is that I can see that the very person in front of me was created in the image of God.
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