Butter Tea with a Monk

It was a chilly Himalayan morning in Tatopani, a Himalayan village in northern Nepal on the border with the Tibet Autonomous Region. It was also one of the most meaningful days of my life. The humidity in the mountains drove the cold straight to the bone. Decked out in my trekking gear I sat with my friends in the rustic tea house and with my eggs and toast I sipped steamy, sweet Nepali chai. I asked for my tiny tea cup to be refilled again and again until I was embarrassed to ask for more and it was time to head out.

The trek up the mountainside was a banquet for the senses; a breeze rustling the lush, green mountain jungle, exotic birds serenading us along our journey as if they knew our hearts were full of anticipation for unknown adventure lying ahead. The sound of rushing water chimed from the trail ahead and I looked up to see a colorful Tibetan prayer wheel slowly turning, propelled by the force of the gentle mountain stream. The prayer wheel was engraved with the sacred letters of a Buddhist mantra and filled with hundreds of copies of the mantra. The people believe that as the wheel turns the words are sent to the heavens, filling the atmosphere with peace and safety from malevolent forces.

We continued on our trek upward and in a few minutes were standing before a locked gate behind which was a small Tibetan monastery. There was no one in sight. DT, our guide, banged on the gate and called out for several minutes. A lone monk dressed in his maroon robe and matching faux-fur lined jacket appeared from out of the fog. He greeted our guide and opened the gate for us to enter. As the team and I followed him through a court yard it felt like a dream world, only my aching legs reminding me it was real.

We entered a large, stark room and seated ourselves on mats on the simple floor. The monk disappeared for several minutes, leaving us to sit, almost silent, contemplating our otherworldly surroundings. I found myself wondering what the meaning of all this was, what was my purpose for being here. Soon the monk returned carrying a huge thermos jug and a stack of very large porcelain tea bowls. He set the thermos on the floor and a tea bowl before each of us. He then proceeded to fill each bowl to the brim with a steaming hot, pale milky liquid. I had heard of Tibetan butter tea. I had heard that it is salty and not considered delicious by most outsiders. I had been well taught that to refuse a host culture’s food is to reject the people and their culture. So I carefully lifted the brimming, hot bowl of tea cupping it in my hands and appreciating the warmth that it gave. I thought, “salty and buttery. I will pretend it’s soup.” I put it to my lips and sipped a teeny bit. Hmmm. Not so salty. And not so bad.

As I slowly sipped my tea, enjoying the warmth it provided and becoming accustomed to the new flavors, the conversation turned to the monastery and the life of the monks. Our host explained that all of the other monks were in prayer closets meditating. I learned that it is the practice of Tibetan Buddhist monks to spend long periods of time in small dark spaces meditating and often fasting during their meditations. He explained that frequently spirits would come to them and instruct them. It was this monk’s rotation to stay out and watch over the monastery.

As I sipped my Tibetan butter tea down a little, the monk would refill it to the brim. After several refills I began to think I would never be able to finish my tea! Noticing my surprise DT explained that Tibetan hospitality demanded that the guest’s cup could never be empty. He explained that when I had had my fill of the warm beverage that I should let it cool a little, then chug the entire cup and place it upside down on the floor. That is the host’s signal that I am finished.

As more and more cups were coming to rest upside down on the floor I was becoming more and more anxious that we had not completed our task. I was a guest on the team, a tag-a-long, and didn’t want to impose on their plans, but I was bursting with the sense that we were meant to speak to this monk about eternity.

I asked DT if he could translate into Tibetan for me. He said no but that the monk knew enough Nepali to understand. So with the help of his translation I began to share The Story with our host. I began to talk about the beauty of creation and the goodness of the Creator God. I shared about the first man and woman, their relationship with the Creator, their mandate to care for the creation, and their choice to obey the serpent rather than the Creator thereby handing dominion of the earth over to the Enemy and breaking relationship with the Creator. I shared God’s intermediate plan of sacrifice to restore partial relationship. Then I told the Story of Jesus, the Lamb of God and Perfect Sacrifice, who gave his life so that we can once again be family with the Creator. Then I said, “You don’t have to live life after life after life trying to be good enough because Jesus was good enough for you. You only have to receive his gift.” At that point the monk who had only been looking at DT, the translator, turned his head and looked at me with an amazed longing of a look in his eyes. I looked at him and nodded and his eyes filled with tears. After finishing by describing eternity future to him we stood to leave. The monk led us out to the gate and we said goodbye to a noticeably changed man.

I skipped, almost danced all the way down the mountainside back to Tatopani. Cold, fatigue, those Himalayan leaches, nothing could dampen the exhilaration of obeying the Holy Spirit and seeing a life changed with God’s hope, a man finding true peace for the first time.

That was nearly twenty years ago. Since then I’ve had incredible experiences and seen God do phenomenal things. That morning, however, I still count as perhaps the most meaningful experience of my life.

What makes an experience meaningful? There could be a myriad of answers to that question. There are many things that make a great impact on me. The joy of a new child, grandchild, or great grandchild. A tough task successfully completed. Teaching a child and the moment they ‘get it’. Those special moments when God’s presence is almost tangible, or a word that he places in my heart. But at the top of the list for me are those occasions when God works through me and I get to see a person’s life changed.

I’d love to hear from you! What makes an experience meaningful for you? Do you remember a time that you consider a highlight of your life?

“The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand.” ~ NLT

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