Why Nepal?

We were introduced at a church on Sunday. We weren’t there to present our work or even speak about Nepal. Instead, we were there as tour guides for our Hindu friends who expressed an interest in learning more about Jesus. We encouraged them to try a Sunday service at a church we know well; Christopher has long been friends with the pastor, our nonprofit has worked with them on projects in the past, and we were being considered for support by their missions team. So while we knew that there might be a slight chance that we’d have a bit of spotlight (well, more so than we get in any church when we show up and fill a solid row by ourselves) we really weren’t expecting to stand up front and speak.

At least, I wasn’t. Christopher knows there’s always the potential and is pretty comfortable manning a mic in front of a congregation. But me? No thanks. Not without warning.

But you know where this is going. We showed up, enjoyed some wonderful conversation with some truly lovely people over donuts and coffee, went upstairs to worship  and … found ourselves front and center in the beginning of the service.

Now, this was actually fabulous news. The church has decided to support us, and we couldn’t be more grateful. A vote of confidence from within the circle of those who already know you is somehow even more sweet that the embrace of those who are new to your story. I can’t explain why. Perhaps because it counters the truth Jesus Himself spoke of when He said “a prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.” Often, the people who know you best have the hardest time seeing you as anything but the person they’ve always known. Re-imagining you in an environment they do not know, among people they have never seen, doing work they cannot fathom … it’s a little tough.

Anyhow, there we were. Lined up across the front of the church, Simon grabbing for the microphone, Mary Hannah leaning in just a little too close to me, the way she does when she’s uncomfortable. The pastor introduced us, said a few words and then turned to ask us his first question.

“Why Nepal?”

I’d love to say that I came out with some amazing, well-constructed argument as to why a seemingly-normal, middle class family is on the countdown to relocating to a city where they can’t drink the water that will flow from their tap. To a country where the roads– where they exist– are impassable much of the time. To a place where central heating is unknown.

Surely there are some good reasons? Some solid answers to that simple question?

Why Nepal?

Put on the spot, I managed the best I could. “Why not Nepal? God loves Nepal just as much as he loves Everett.”

You know, it’s not a bad answer. God does love Nepal as much as He loves any other place. And really, that’s cause enough to go into those places, bringing the truth of that good news.

But there’s so much more. So much that grows out of that one fact. So much that suddenly makes it not just a wild hair for a family to set it all aside and walk into an unknown, but an imperative.

First and foremost, when God has placed something upon your heart, you can’t not go. And yes, our call to Nepal is like that. For all of us. Each one of us knows that this is where we are supposed to go. Each one of us knows that this work is what God wants for us. When you’ve been called, the thought of saying no is far more paralyzing than the thought of a future of cold showers and brushing your teeth with bottled water. That is why Nepal.

There are approximately 29 million people in Nepal. Of those, somewhere between 1 and 4 percent know Christ. Many live in areas where the name of Jesus has never been spoken. Imagine this. Imagine a place where someone saying “Jesus,” is meaningless. Now imagine that you might play a small part in introducing even one person to their Creator. This is why Nepal.

Finally, there is a small community of believers that has pointedly, specifically requested the work that we are going there to do. There are those waiting to be equipped, longing to learn more, wanting more tools to take with them as they evangelize their own people. These brave young Christians risk everything, every day, to follow Christ. They have been ostracized by their families, ejected from their homes, sometimes even physically assaulted. And yet they refuse to be silenced. They refuse to retreat to the safety locking their doors, keeping their faith to themselves. All they ask of us is that we come. We come, and we share the Good News already given to us. We come, and we encourage them. We come, and we help them mature in this faith that is so new, but so real, so life-changing to them.

This is why Nepal.

Next time I’m asked, I’ll be ready.