Matthew 8:19-20, “Then a teacher of the law came to him and said, 'Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.' Jesus replied, 'Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.'”
I had the most wonderful time the other day. It was finals week at our language school, the last day of the semester. As I walked down the driveway into the school I saw a group of Nepali boys playing volleyball, just as I had watched every day the entire semester. Usually I would never have the courage to ask them if I could join, but for some reason I decided to put aside the fact that I'm a really tall, white girl that would certainly draw a huge crowd and asked to play. The guys were shocked. In this culture, girls don't really play volleyball, or any kind of sport for that matter, so this was pretty new to them. But I hadn't had a chance to touch a volleyball in nearly two years so I was itching to play. I played. The crowds gathered. I had a blast, and enjoyed every minute of my time out there passing the ball around. I even got invited to play on the “campus team” next semester…haha, how that would work I have no idea. But I probably gained a new reputation on campus as “that bideshi (foreign) girl that played volleyball with all the boys for a couple of hours!”
When I was finished playing I went inside the exam room where the assignment for the day was to sit with the professor and tell him a story from your own life – in Nepali of course. My face was red and I was out of breath, but I sat down and began to tell him about the first time I had ever gone overseas to Haiti back in 1997. I told him about meeting my little brother John, and finding a love and passion welling up in me that was greater than anything I had ever known. I spoke of coming home broken over this little boy and crying over him until my parents received confirmation from God and decided to adopt him. My professor was fascinated. He even started rubbing his eyes and told me he felt like he was going to cry. I was fascinated. Here sat my high caste, high society, fairly wealthy and devoutly Hindu professor in tears over my simple story of God breaking me out of my comfort zone and filling me back up with love. Love. That's all it was, and it nearly made him cry. A story I've probably told a thousand times.
For two years now I have spent all of my time with the destitute poor of Nepal. I am so used to working among the poor who receive Jesus so easily that it made me realize how strange it was to see this wealthy man being touched by God. In scripture it tell us that the poor are blessed and that they shall inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. I see this everyday in their humility and the way that all it takes is a simple spoken word; they are so desperately hungry for God that they almost always receive Him immediately. They are void of all joy, and peace until the moment they are introduced to their Savior Jesus and from that day they are literally the most beautiful people on Earth praising God for every tiny blessing they receive. It is beautiful. My professor has been teaching at our language campus for years, the majority of his students being missionaries coming through learning the language in order to spread the gospel throughout this nation. All semester long we've been watching as he has shown a growing interest in the Bible and what it is about, even giving us assignments to come to ready to recite a story from the Bible in Nepali. One day I even brought a Nepali Bible to to give to him and he told me he already had 8 copies given to him by students in the past. But in Proverbs 22:2 we read, “Rich and poor have this in common: The Lord is the Maker of them all.” As simple as that. Dr. Bala Ram Aryal was created in the image of God just as much as my friend Sam.
After my story Dr. Aryal continued to ask me questions about Christianity. Did I become a Christian because my parents were Christians or was it my own choice? Why on Earth would I choose to move to Nepal and work with the most despised and rejected people of its society? What is it that gives me so much joy? Did I feel that way when I arrived here? On and on he asked me questions and in my simple Nepali words I told him I would rather be here than anywhere on Earth because, “Ma Nepalmaa basdaa mero manmaa shanti chha. Tyo shanti Permeshworebata aeko chha.” When I am in Nepal I have peace in my heart. That peace comes from God.
Sometimes I wish I could have all the goodies that America has to offer. Volleyball for one. Working in a field related to my degree would be another – I love my computer. Having my family around me. Being clean and smelling nice all the time. Being able to open my mouth and communicate in depth with anyone I want at any time without it being an exercise of the brain. But what are those things anyway? Do they make us who we are? Do they define us, and are we really incapable of living lives full of joy and fulfillment without them?
I loved playing volleyball the other day. But I love it even more when I get a couple of free hours and walk up the little pathway to Kripaa Sadan; all the boys sitting out in the sun waving and yelling, “Jaimashi Didi!!” Welcome sister! Even if I can only speak to them in broken Nepali. Even if they call a round ball covered in black and white squares a “football.” Even if I will never fully understand what it means to have never gone to school, to have lived in the streets scraping for every meal, spending every waking minute of your life for years on end committing the most horrendous acts known to mankind and then cutting yourself, or pumping your veins full of chemicals to numb the pain. Would I really sacrifice the chance to watch that pain melt away, replaced by smiles and laughter and singing just for an opportunity to jump around and play volleyball for a few hours and wake up the next morning with a stiff shoulder? Is it really that much of a sacrifice to walk away from a hundred things that make up my life in America to pour myself into 2 things that make me feel complete on the other side of the world…Jesus, and my brothers in Thamel?
A wise woman named Jackie Pullinger once said, “A sacrifice is only a sacrifice until you've made it.” Oh how true that is.
Praise God for his grace and love. Where would we be without it?
In fullness of love and joy,
-Brook