A Tall Tale from the Himalayas
I’ll never forget the first time I set foot in the Himalayas. Our prop plane landed on what we were conveniently told afterwards was one of the world’s most dangerous runways, we struted across a tarmac covered more in military vehicles than transport vessles, and breathed in air thinner than many Americans would breathe in a lifetime—and we were in the valley. Hah. They told us the street dogs became like wolves at night and had eaten a man. Honestly, I think this was actually true? That, or they really, really got me. Anyway, the Himalayas are a wild, wild place, through and through.
I write about them today not to tell a cool travel story, though. They’re not even the coolest moiuntains I’ve seen. Those would be the Tien Shan, but that’s another story. I write today to testify to how a wilder God met that place. If you think the Himalayas are cool, wait till you hear what God did there. I’ve been telling this story among friends for a few years, but I think it’s time it find some pen and ink.
That morning was like every morning, we woke up, drank our chai, read our Bibles, ate breakfast, and sat around talking for a good hour or two. Then, after a while, we deliberated with the locals about where to do our evangelism for the day. Truly, we didn’t have much say, nor care for that matter. Our job was sharing, their job was deciding where.
So, when one of the locals came in last minute wanting to go to a different random village that day, none of us thought much of it. What’s the difference between village A and village B to us if neither one has ever heard the name of Jesus?
So, we picked ourselves up, and set out to village B. When we got there, we split into two groups: me and another college guy, and then two girls and our translator. Yeah… two groups and mine wasn’t the one to luck out with the translator, kinda important when you’re in rural, mountaneous South Asia and you’re an English-speaking white guy.
No matter, my partner and I decided to look for some English speakers, maybe we would get lucky.
We didn’t get lucky.
Quite the opposite, we met only children who wanted to make a scene and play.
Endearing, until it draws enough attention to you to get you arrested for prostelatizing.
This, we didn’t want.
So, after about an hour of putting up with the kids following us around, my partner asked if we should send them away.
I sat and thought about it, and decided to pray.
“Jesus, what would you do?”
Oh.
Jesus always played with children.
He never sent them away.
Well, if Jesus’ ministry agenda wasn’t more important than little kids, neither was ours.
I told my buddy we would stop what we were doing and play with the kids.
Confused, he asked why.
I explained my thinking, and he said ok.
Soon, we found ourselves attempting to draw the gospel for these kids.
This was comical.
I was drawing arrows towards the sky and making frownie faces to represent sin and pointing at myself to talk about man and it was all starting to just look like a bumper sticker none of these kids had ever seen.
When I drew a cross, however, the kids all got eyes as big as saucers, looked at me, and screamed Jesus.
Seriously!
Every one of these kids knew the name of Jesus.
More than that, they made crosses with their arms and said “Christian!"
Yes!
We are Christian! We love Jesus!
Who is Jesus to you??
The kids of course didn’t know more Enlgish than “Jesus” and “Christian,” but they motioned for us to follow them.
Why not?
So, we found our translator and the girls, and followed the kids deep into the village.
Soon, we were being ushered into the basement of a large building where about 10-15 people were gathered.
An old man quickly showed himself to be the spokesperson of the group, but not before all 10-15 could greet us by saying “victory in Jesus,” brothers and sisters!
This is what the local South Asian believers would greet each other by saying, so you can imagine our amazement when this unreached village in the Himalayas was greeting us with it.
Perhaps we had found Christians!
We would only know this once they told us who Jesus was to them, though, so I made asking this question my goal.
“Victory in Jesus, sir! Who is he to you?”
“He is our healer!”
The old man proceeded to tell us many stories of healing.
Many members of his community had been healed of sicknesses and freed of demonic oppressions, according to this man.
The most memorable story he told me, was of his son.
“My son was four, when he was hit by a bus.”
“He was struck so hard that he flew 20 feet in the air and 30 feet long.”
“He was killed instantly.”
“His brothers wanted to kill the bus driver.”
“Holy Spirit told me no.”
“It’s not his fault, forgive him.”
“So, we took my [dead] son to the hospital.”
“The doctors told us he was dead.”
“So, we took him to another hospital.”
“and another.”
“and another.”
“We got to the biggest hospital in the region, and the doctors said he was dead.”
“Then, he gasped for air and woke up.”
“Jesus brought my son back to life!”
Never having heard a story like this and still trying to figure out if these people believed Jesus died for their sins, I responsded.
“That’s amazing! Praise Jesus!”
“Where is your son now?”
“Oh, he is the one who just poured your chai.”
The man’s 30 year old son waved at me and smiled as he finished pouring my chai.
Bewildered, I asked how long his son was dead before Jesus woke him up.
4 days.
I was wittnessing a modern day Lazerous, or this man was an absolute liar.
Deciding to continue in my attempts to figure out who these people were and what was happening, i asked again.
“Who is Jesus to you?”
They dodged the question again.
“We are SO glad you are finally here.”
I asked the translator to make him repeat what he just said.
The translator told me that the man said that they’ve been waiting for us.
I asked him to ask what he means.
“They’ve been waiting for you since Monday, and they are glad you are here.”
It was Wednesday.
Then, the translator told me that the man says, “We’ve been praying and fasting since Monday for someone to come and teach us the Bible.” “Do you know the Bible?”
I’ll never forget the earnesty and hope with which this man asked this question.
At the time he asked it, I was in my fourth year of Bible College. More than that, the college had hired me that semester to be one of its two tutors for the College of Christian Studies.
I was actively tutoring students struggling in the following classes: Bible Interpretation, Principles of Theological Research and Writing, New Testament Survey, and Old Testament Survey.
I told the translator, “Tell him we know the Bible.”
The man was delighted.
“When can you teach us?”
Again, I asked the translator, “Did he just say when can we teach him the Bible?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him how long he has.”
“He wants to know how long you need.”
For the Bible?
“Ask him if he has a full day.”
“For the Bible, yes we have a full-day.”
“Ask him if he is free Friday.”
“He says yes.”
“He says there is just one problem.”
“What is it?”
“He pastors a church of 40. Can they all come?”
“Yes, that will be fine.”
To date, I’ve never had an experience like this one.
I’ve chosen to believe this man, and that means a few things.
God still raises people from the dead.
God doesn’t just answers prayers, he shows off.
Following the model of Jesus is the ONLY way to do ministry well.
I don’t tell this story to build myself up. I tell this story to bear testimony to how CRAZY Jesus blew our minds that day. He flew us across the world to answer this small Himalayan village’s prayers. He didn’t just answer their prayers half-heartedly, either, he sent one of the most qualified candidates he could have.
Truth be told, that day impacted me more than anyone there that day I believe, though.
It changed how I view the way God is involved in our lives.
He brought that man’s son back from the dead.
He brought us across the world to teach them.
He used little children to accomplish all of it.
A few years later, a dear friend asked me why I still stay Christian, even when sometimes i suffer and sometimes it isn’t easy. Sometimes, a church burns me, and sometimes, it feels easier to just blend in and not look like a fanatic.
I told him very simply that I’ve seen too much and heard too much.
I hope this shows you too much, too.
The events recorded here are true and took place during the summer of 2018.
