A picture paints a thousand words..

I am not even sure how to start.  The last two days have been so incredibly special, and long, and difficult...all in the same sentence.

John and I left Darjeeling Wednesday morning.  We drove 3 hours down from the Himalayan Mountains to the Nepal/India border.  We had Tony driving us again.  This time he took a different road down.  We drove past thousands of tea estates.  It was a beautiful drive.  And yes, this time I was awake.  He was helpful in getting us through customs etc. and found us a safe Taxi to drive us the 2.5 hours to Biratnagar, Nepal.  I was a tiny bit nervous about the exchange--but our taxi driver was GREAT and got us to our hotel in record time.  The scenery is much the same as it was during our drive to Agra and Jaipur.

A Nepali School Bus (powered by a bicycle)

One image of the thousands of tea bushes

This little lady looks like thousands
of other animals: Hungry

After our Taxi driver got us to our hotel in Nepal, we were immediately picked up by Binod (pronounced Bee-Node).  He is a pastor over here in Nepal and working hard to plant churches and grow the gospel.  He and his wife do not have a car, but they hired someone to drive us around.  John and I were totally unprepared for the next 7 hours.  As we began to travel, we quickly realized that ALL of the destinations were remote villages.......villages you cannot get to by regular road.  So, I want you to picture one of the very first vans ever created and the bumpiest dirt road you can imagine.  Picture it surrounded by water on both sides (you know, the kind of water that would kill one of us if we fell into it).  And picture that when there isn't water on both sides, there are huts and agriculture fields and many, many faces of village people wondering what on earth two very white people are doing bumbling through their part of the world.

It is such a different culture here.  We were really only safe to travel through these villages because we had someone who was Nepali with us--otherwise, we'd have been in a more precarious situation.  It is not uncommon here to be greeted by the matriarchs of the group first--and they often place a floral wreath around your neck.  In EVERY village a few of the younger women of the group will bring us water (which we have to decline because we'd be terribly sick drinking it).  It is SO hard to say no to these people because it is a huge part of their culture to feed you food and give you drink.  We tried to explain to Binod the difference between their water and our water and the fact our bellies cannot handle such a vast change.  He says he tries to explain to them why we are turning down their water--but you can see the look of disappointment on their faces.  And even with his explanation, it still feels horribly rude.

When you come to visit someone's home (most are just simple huts), you bring great honor to them.  It is a cultural thing that is a very big deal.  This particular village, they insisted on washing our feet.  It was quite a humble moment.

See, the reason we were traveling to these little remote places is that Binod has been asking John for quite a long time to come back to visit.  As such, when we arrived he told us there were numerous seed churches that could use some encouragement and prayer....some songs and some scripture.  Newly baptized Christians that were in need of love.  So village to village we went, turning down the water, but bowing in respect.  Praying.  Singing.  Listening (through interpreters) to their needs and their petitions.  Sharing God's Word and letting them know they were known.

A small school, fortunate enough to be built in a real building

This was Binod explaining they really wanted to give us a drink...
notice John's VERY obvious water bottle?  It was our public
attempt to show them we were not thirsty.

In Nepal, monsoon season is June and July.  They will get so much rain during this season that rivers that are nearly bone dry, will flow free again.  Binod says that instead of hiding inside, these are the months where all these village people will come out and work the most; planting seeds and working the land preparing for a future harvest.  I am mesmerized by these people--such hard workers, from dawn till dusk.  They go home to meager conditions, met by no electricity and go to sleep knowing tomorrow will be much the same.  And again and again and again.  And yet, they wash our feet.  We felt so unworthy….

We finally made it back to our hotel room quite late, and we were so exhausted—we couldn’t eat.  The days are tricky here—there are so many things that threaten our happy American tummies—and while everyone wants to feed us food and give us drink; we have to just keep declining (which, you understand borders being downright rude).  Even the dishes (which are washed in the contaminated water) prevent us from being able to share the proverbial meal.  Twice John and I were not able to say no to the food—the villagers just could not understand, and  so we simply tried to eat the food off the top, while trying to totally avoid any of the food that would be touching the plate.  In this culture, you eat with you right hand—no fork or spoon.  Binod told us today that us eating with our hand like them made him very proud.

Thursday morning, John and I were picked up early by Binod and his driver.  (His driver, by the way is a nice young guy—maybe 19 or 20; speaks little English, and has a super soft countenance).  We had been told that we were invited to a church conference and that we needed to plan to team preach for 1 hour and that John was to lead worship for them.  They actually had a church that resembled a real building.  Because it was made of all cement, the inside seemed naturally cool as opposed to the 90 degree temperatures outside.  There are no windows there—only the panes, so the wind blows freely through the place.  And, given there is no electricity, the dim interior of the room also aided a cooler feeling.

John, Binod and his son

The children performed a dance/song for us in Nepali

John leading them in worship

Becky preaching on Paul being ship wrecked

John preaching on following God

A Nepali man teaching me how to play 

We listened to them sing in Nepali.  They listened to us sing in American.  The men sat on one side, the women on the other.  One of the Matriarchs of the group thumped on the drum, while various other people held little instruments.  All sang along.  And as prayers came, the men bowed their heads in deep respect, while the women covered their heads in solemn reverence.  It was beautiful.

Afterwards, John was asked to participate in something amazing: 

...BAPTISM...

12 new believers in all, and guess what?  Our driver, who was so impressed by all the Christians and after spending time driving us around for two days, made the sudden decision to also get baptized too—not having a change of clothes, he waded into the waters of baptism in his dress clothes.  It was picture perfect and the moment was beyond defining.

After the baptism, Binod invited us to eat with him and a few others.  This was a small cement room near the church room.  John and I did the very best we could to eat some of the food and look appreciative.  Shortly after the meal, Binod approached John and told him of two 18 year old runaways out of India.  They were there that day and wanted to be married.  So naturally, John jumped right in to assist with the ceremony.  I was amazed to watch this man lead worship, preach, bless the baptism service and speak of salvation…..and then help seal a marriage……in NEPAL?????  Glory to God.  It was amazing….

"...for the earth will be filled with the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea..."

Habakuk 2:14 NKJV

Mark 1:17 And Jesus said, "Come ye after me, and I will make you fishers of men."