Winds of the Himalaya – Part 10

Mt. Machhapuchhre overlooking Phewa Lake, Pokhara, Nepal – acrylic on canvas

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

All Together for Round Two

March 16-18, Thursday – Saturday.  The remainder of our Alaskan team was scheduled to arrive in Kathmandu Thursday and travel to Pokhara by bus on Friday.  So Vivian, Holly, and I had some time to rest, get cleaned up (cut our nails and shave our legs), see the sights around Pokhara, and repack.  The hotel would do our laundry which was a wonderful blessing as most laundry there is washed by hand in a bucket.  I would miss the small group closeness we six had shared but I was excited to be united with the entire team and see what God had in store.  And we would have live music as Katie purchased a backpacker guitar for the trip!

bath time

First off Daniel L asked if we wanted to rent bicycles for the day. I didn’t say a word but my face must have said it all because that subject didn’t come up again. My legs were almost numb from exhaustion and needed some rest. As much as I enjoy cycling, pedaling around town sounded extremely counterproductive to healing my noodle-like legs. So instead we visited Phewa Lake (pictured above) just outside of Pokhara. Phewa Lake is the second largest lake in Nepal and is used for fishing and production of electricity. It is adorned with breathtaking reflections of Himalayan mountains (as depicted in the Part 9 cover photo) making it a major tourist stop as well.

Upon arriving at the lake we rented a couple of brightly colored canoes and paddled out to and around an island which is home to a Nepali style pagoda temple. There animal sacrifices are offered to the “boar goddess” who is an avatar of Durga, goddess of destruction. She is called the “boar goddess” because a Hindu epic describes how she took the form of a boar to defeat demons. Daniel asked us to pray as we circumnavigated the temple island. Because circumambulation is an important religious practice in both Hinduism and Buddhism for earning merit towards a better reincarnation, there were many boats on the water with us. Much of what we did on our trips to Nepal was pray around the holy sites inviting the Holy Spirit to come and break the strongholds of the enemy. In spite of the assignment our outing was wonderfully beautiful and relaxing as we soaked in some of the most stunning works of our Creator’s Hands. After browsing again in the markets that afternoon, we returned to our hotel and spent the evening enjoying friendship and playing cards.

joint Nepali and Alaskan team

Friday morning we visited a Tibetan refugee camp where we spent considerable time prayer walking. At last I was face to face with the Tibetan peoples for whom I had prayed for such a long time and I was deeply moved. Our Alaskan team arrived in the afternoon along with Robby and the rest of the Nepali team. Once they settled in we visited a school and a Bible Training Center where we met the students and gave some first-aid style medical care.

visiting a local school
Saturday gathering

Saturday morning, the day of gathering for Believers in Nepal, we went to church and several of our team shared in the service. It was a wonderful time of worshipping with the local believers. Back at the hotel we changed into walking clothes, stored our luggage, and then left by bus for Nayapul at 1:30 pm.

Hindu priest preparing offerings
Hindu worshippers

As we trekked from Nayapul to Syauli Bazar I pondered our previous experience and wondered if the faces would still be there. I deeply hoped that they would be gone, the people set free and strongholds abolished. Quite a number of people were out on the trail and most were covered in colored powder and were throwing it on everyone they met along the way. Our Nepali leaders advised us to not let them throw the powder on us because of the implications in Hinduism. Because we were foreigners they respected our wishes but the man who had come along as our cook got covered in red. Even though he was not yet a disciple of Jesus he was quite upset. Once we reached Syauli Bazar he tried to wash off as much as he could but the color is permanent so he was stuck with it for days.

We arrived at 5:30 pm and it was getting dusky so immediately five of us dropped our packs and went straight up towards the mountain ledge from which we had prayed the week before. The faces were still there and I could see bewilderment in the eyes of the others as they spotted one after the other. After seeing the images of the eleven strongholds, Doc asked, “How do we pray?!” I warned that we should not confront the enemy without specific leading of the Holy Spirit and even then it should be humbly in the power of the Spirit rather than in arrogance (Jude 9, Zech. 4:6). Then, remembering the word from the Holy Spirit last week “My Light will dispel the darkness,” (The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5 ESV) I said that our strategy was to invite the presence of the Holy Spirit manifesting the Character of God into the region and His Presence would then displace the the enemy. (Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” 2 Corinthians 3:17 ESV). For example, we would invite God’s Light to dispel the spirit of darkness. So we began praying against the strongholds that God had revealed—violence, anger, fear, darkness, devourer, death, bondage, deception, false religion, eternal torment, eternal destruction/damnation—by asking God to send His Spirit of Love, Peace, Power, Light, Protection, Life, Freedom, Truth, Knowledge of Christ, Comfort, and Salvation. (See Part 6, Faces. https://wordpress.com/post/jackietallent.com/2313)

As darkness fell we hurried back to Machhapuchhre Tea House, found our rooms, and prepared for dinner. One of the Nepalis traveling with us, the cook, had come along to help with our food preparation, particularly in the tea houses that didn’t have clean kitchens and we were blessed with some deliciously filling meals.

Robby shared the strategy for our trek. In addition to prayer we would be attempting to engage people in discussions about Truth; one tool would be passing out literature. The Nepali team would help with translation in our conversations. For those who prayed with us or showed interest, women would be sent from the Kathmandu church to followup. The first believer in a location would become the local pastor. The ladies would give him/her a Bible, teach them to read if necessary, and disciple them in the Word so that they could then lead the other new believers.

Very interestingly, women have been largely responsible for the rapid growth of the Church in Nepal. “Women are the ones who have carried the gospel. They have been the church planters,..” (Christianity Today, February 13, 2023, This is a beautiful article about the growth of Christianity in Nepal that brings tears to my eyes! https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2023/march/nepal-evangelist-women-gospel-gossip.html).

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 9

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

Last Leg of the First Round

March 14-15, Tuesday – Wednesday. Since there was no shower in the tea house Holly, Vivian, and I were wakened by the delivery to our room of a basin of hot water. It was wonderfully refreshing to wash our faces and freshen up a bit. At breakfast we asked about the lady for whose stomach problem we had prayed last night and were glad to hear that she was feeling well.

Midmorning we three walked over to a neighboring tea house to visit M with whom Vivian had connected on her trip last July. We had been told that she left the Faith and now was critical of Christians. Vivian shared with me that her husband was strongly opposed to followers of Jesus and that he frequently drank and beat M. When we arrived we seated ourselves at an outdoor table and savored the warm, morning sun. M immediately recognized Vivian and brought us tea. She sat down with us but seemed uncomfortable. We talked for a few minutes and then she had to take care of customers. On her return M brought us postcards as gifts. She then seemed more open to conversation and shared that she had overheard our previous night’s worship time. Vivian had prayed with her last July because she didn’t have children and M now told us that she would be walking to Pokhara to see a doctor for this problem. When she asked us to pray for her tonight at the church in Banthanti we asked if we could pray quietly before we left. Eyes darting she nervously said no because her husband and another relative (who had been a believer but because of persecution no longer followed Jesus) were there.

All this time a table of three young Europeans — a girl with dread locks, a tall, blond guy, and another girl — were watching and appeared to be talking about us. Just before lunch the European guy came over to our tea house dining area and asked to speak with me alone. I walked to a table across the dining room and we sat on a bench looking out over the trail and village. He introduced himself as Nicolas from Norway. Although he spoke in a controlled manner he was obviously quite agitated as he asked me why I was here “ruining their culture” by telling them about a Western God, and that instead we should be giving humanitarian aid. I told him that we were, in a small way, distributing health and medical items and quickly reminded him that Jesus was Asian, not Western. Nicolas conceded that Jesus was indeed Asian and a fifteen minute discussion followed revealing that he had a bit of Bible knowledge. He divulged that his god was the universe and his belief that anything that is loving is from the “universe god” and is therefore good. Then he asked if he could silently pray to the universe for me. My first thought was, “YIKES!” My second thought was, “My God is the Almighty. This man cannot harm me.” So I agreed that he could pray silently for me (and I silently prayed for protection) if he then would allow me to pray audibly to Jesus for him. I don’t remember exactly what I prayed but I’m sure that I would have prayed blessing over him and asked that God would reveal Himself to Nicolas and open his heart to Truth. And then he left, still agitated and perhaps frustrated with me.

After lunch we walked downhill to Banthanti (meaning a rest house in the forest) and settled into Hotel Trekking, the tea house across the way from the only church on this circuit.  Banthanti is a small village of Gurung and Magar peoples, wedged between high walls carved out by the nearby river.  There were a number of Christians in this area including the owners of this tea house.  One huge surprise was awaiting us there — a hot shower which was in a tiny outhouse-sized building constructed beside the path.

In the afternoon we went out prayer-walking and once again saw faces on a mountainside across the river from the trail. We were discussing our discernment of a spirit of shamanism and witchcraft as well as darkness and depression when an older man passed us.  He looked us over and appeared immensely unhappy that we were there.  It seemed odd in a land of such abundant hospitality and friendliness.  “Perhaps,” we thought, “he is the shaman.”  And then as we were returning to the tea house we passed him again; he was still unfriendly, clearly disturbed by our presence.

After dinner we attended a gathering at the church with about twenty local people. After a time of singing Vivian told her story. Then I shared my story and spoke from Isaiah 54. More time of worship and prayer followed. While I was speaking I noticed that two of our Nepali team members, Bhim and Puchhanga, were beaming, literally glowing with joy. I had never seen anything like it before. What a blessing these three guys, so full of God, traveling with us were!

Wednesday morning we had tea and prayed with the pastor’s wife on our way out of town. It was to be a six-hour trek, downhill all the way, and then only a taxi ride back to Pokhara where we had a “real” shower and clean clothes waiting in our baggage stored at the hotel. And awaiting us for dinner was a treat that I had not imagined in my wildest dreams — steak! I was craving meat and savored every morsel as Bob Marley serenaded us with Everything’s Gonna Be Alright.

a video I found with highlights of the last half of the route I trekked only in the opposite direction

Once Upon a Time

the deepest yearning of our hearts

As a child I was an avid reader, especially in the summer. Every Monday during summer vacation my mother took my brother and I to Malvern Public Library where I returned the previous week’s five books, read cover to cover, and I checked out five new books. I vividly remember holding my little brother’s hand as we skipped up the sidewalk and into the library, remembering to only speak in a whisper once inside. The excitement of finding new books to read and the anticipation of what adventures those books would hold was a highlight of my youth. My mother was a subscriber to Reader’s Digest Condensed Books which arrived every quarter and which I read voraciously in addition to those library books. My hot Arkansas summers were full of chickens, cows, gardens, cats, and books. It was a good time to be a child.

my sister in front of our garden and orchard/me resting from my books/our home

Darjeeling forest 📷 KT Maxwell

Sometime during my middle school-age years I read a fantasy novel that even decades later sends a surge through my heart when I think of it. I cannot remember the name of the book or the author and because I would love to read it again I have searched the worldwide-web for it but to no avail. It was the story of a girl and boy who lived in a verdant forest. All they needed to thrive was found in the garden-like woods. The most remarkable feature that lingers in my mind is that the girl’s clothes were soft and comfortable beyond anything known because they were custom spun onto her body by a spider. I still remember deeply longing to live in such a beautiful, peaceful paradise.

For most of my childhood I had a make believe friend. My friend was an olive skinned, dark haired boy and I remember him clearly. He was always kind and gentle, he was wise, with me always, and I always felt safe with him. I never told anyone about him (you are the first) but about the time I begrudgingly decided that I was too old to climb trees I felt that I was also too old for a make believe friend. So, with some difficulty, I put him out of my mind.

In the almost spring months of 2019, a few months after my physical collapse in India, I took a retreat in a beautiful log cabin in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas.  During those two months of silence, prayer, worship, and rest I thought much about the garden of that unnamed novel and of the original garden, Eden, which was lost to us because of sin.  The song “Garden” by United Pursuit was my bedtime serenade during those months.  Even now my heart deeply longs for the garden lost and for the companionship that the man and woman shared with their Creator.

I am currently enrolled in a course of study about Christian Spiritual Formation. Nearing the halfway point of the course I have found it thought provoking and the above described ideas have been highlighted in my spirit. The first book in my curriculum was Hearing God by Dallas Willard. It was followed by readings from Frank Laubach and Brother Andrew. The theme of that first quarter was living 24/7 in the conscious awareness of the presence of God. Setting a goal of being in constant communication with God in addition to times of prayer and worship was emphasized. I long deeply to walk in this manner but I am finding it difficult to establish the kind of continual focus I desire. While pondering this one day I remembered my childhood imaginary friend and thought, “it should be like that!” And as I considered that revelation I had another thought. What if my childhood friend was not imaginary at all? What if that was actually Jesus living by my side during those years? What if I pushed him away because I thought I was too old for such things?

Through these past few years and emphasized by my current studies I have come to embrace a new way of thinking. I believe it is possible to miss something one has never seen. I believe that when God created us body, soul, and spirit that he planted deep in our hearts a longing. He has given us a longing for his presence that is closer than a brother and a longing for the home that he created for us, a longing for what was lost in that first garden. I believe that the love of fairy tales, of stories of princesses, kings and knights, castles and talking animals is an expression of that longing planted deep in our hearts. And I believe that the tendency of a child to have a make believe friend is an expression of the deep longing to live in communication with and in the continual presence of the God who created us and loved us so much that he gave himself to pay our ransom.

My heart aches for the paradise lost, and for the paradise yet-to-come, for the beauty and peace of that home Jesus is preparing just for me.  I long to live in ongoing, conscience relationship, in the friendship that was intended from the beginning, with my Creator, Savior, Comforter.  Let it be Lord.

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day…

Genesis 3:8 ESV

..there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

Proverbs 18:24b ESV

And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him nor knows him.  You know him, for he dwells with you and will be in you.

John 14:16-17 ESV

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month.  The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.  No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him.  They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.  And night will be no more.  They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.

Revelation 22:1-5 ESV

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 8

view from Deorali

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

Rhododendrons and Snow

March 11-13, Saturday-Monday.  Saturday morning we left the main trail (i.e. no more uphill stairs, yay!) to take a more direct path to Tadapani.  The trek was still very much uphill but walking on inclined ground is so much easier than steps.  Our Nepali friends had shown us the method of zigzag walking.  Zigzagging wasn’t helpful for me on the stairs but on a simple incline it does help.  Yes, there are more steps to take but the steepness of each step is lessened.

dried rhododendron petals and leaves
rhododendron forrest

The climb to Tadapani was four absolutely gorgeous miles (6 1/2 km) though a rhododendron forrest. The trees were so thick that very little light came through therefore underbrush was sparse. And the icing on the cake was that the rhododendron flowers were just beginning to bloom adding such colorful beauty to the trail. The lushness of the forrest coupled with the dimness of light created a fairytale sort of atmosphere which brought a joyful, peaceful calm to my soul. It felt a bit like what I described in my blog Once Upon a Time (https://jackietallent.com/2022/06/16/once-upon-a-time/). But in spite of the exhilarating beauty of the woods and the enchanting atmosphere it was still an exhausting trudge. At one point I remember thinking, “If I were at home on a treadmill I would just get off and sit on the couch, but that is not an option here, I have to keep on walking.” So I endured on, one foot in front of the other.

The Annapurna View Tea House in Tadapani was not so nice as Sakura Tea House.  And it was cold! In the dining area a wood fire was burning in a large can to provide warmth.  We sat by the fire all afternoon and played rummy.  Song, dance, sharing our stories, and card games would become our regular after-dark activities.  Strong friendships were built during those hours.

There were three Canadians, believers, staying at the tea house. After dinner we all sang for a while and then one of our Nepali team, who had been a believer for fourteen years, told his story. He was born into a Buddhist family living in the mountains but his parents died when he was four and a Hindu family in Kathmandu adopted him. As an adopted child he was rejected by the community so grew up lonely. When given a Bible he read it but didn’t understand until a teacher helped him. Finally he went to a church gathering and there decided to follow Jesus. Some time later he caught tuberculosis and was highly allergic to the medicine. He was near death when God miraculously healed him. After his healing he said that he cried for two days, full of gratitude for what God had done.

📷 postcard

That evening I was very grateful for the second-hand goose down sleeping bag I had found in Pokhara. I was also pleasantly surprised at the inch-or-more-thick, cotton batting stuffed blankets that were brought to us.  They looked more like mats than blankets, almost as thick as our mattresses, and were comfortingly heavy and warm.

Sunday’s activity was a six-hour walk. From Tadapani at 8563 ft (2610m) to Ghorepani at 9429 ft (2874m) — the highest point on the trek was 10,531 feet (3210m) — Himalayan beauty as well as the traditional lifestyle of the Nepalese people abounded, along with more stairs. At the higher altitudes there was still ice from winter so the trail was very slick. Outside of Ghorepani I slipped and fell a couple of times but no harm done. The walk was cold. Just before Ghorepani we stopped on a ridge from which we could see mountain ranges on three sides. It was a panorama like one sees in magazines and my cheap point-and-shoot camera and meager photographic skills could not do justice to the silhouetted mountains one beyond the other off into the distant horizon just like a dream world. There our combined team of six spent about an hour and half praying over the surrounding regions. Sunday night we stayed at Hotel Snowland in Ghorepani as did a large group of Australians. I was thrilled when another of those thick, mat-like blankets appeared at bed time.

📷 postcard
Poon Hill as seen from Ghorepani

Monday was a glorious sleeping-in day. After a late breakfast we walked up Poon Hill (10,532 ft / 3210m) which provides epic views of the Annapurna Massif and Dhaulagiri mountain ranges. The 1000 foot incline took us about an hour to scale. While taking in the breathtaking panorama we prayed over the region and God again showed me the strongholds of Deceiver and Devourer. We then prayed all together while experiencing an awesome presence of our Creator God.

On arrival back down at Hotel Snowland we had to check out immediately because a French group was waiting for our room. After eating a quick lunch we headed off into a spring snow storm towards Nangethanti (8560 ft / 2609m) where snow had turned to rain because of the slightly lower altitude. Nangethanti means naked rest house, naked referring to the lack of trees in the area. We stopped for the night at Laligurans (Red Rhododendron) Guest House which is owned by a Christian family. Because of the rain we settled down in the open-air dining hall warming ourselves around a fifty-gallon drum containing a wood fire. There we played cards all afternoon enjoying the company of friends.

After dinner, gathered with the tea house owners, we sang and prayed. Our team was seated on the dining room side of the fire and the extended family of the tea house owners was huddled on the back side of the drum stove. It was nearly pitch dark with just a few candles giving light. Vivian shared a scripture, reading by the glow of a single candle. This family was isolated because of their faith and experienced persecution from the community such as having objects thrown at them while walking down to Banthati to worship at the only church in this area. Daniel L. encouraged us to speak more as the family desperately needed encouragement. So I shared about God’s love for them and read from Romans 8. From out of the darkness I could hear a man sobbing uncontrollably as I spoke. My heart was breaking for their suffering but also for the bravery of their faith tested by fire. We then prayed for them and especially for one of the ladies who suffered with a stomach ailment. As I fell asleep, warm and snug in my tea house bed, I was thinking of what an amazing day we had experienced and wondered what the morrow would bring.

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 7

Gandruk, Annapurna, Nepal

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

100 Gazillion Stairs

Thursday-Friday, March 9-10. What an incredibly unbelievable time we had experienced in Syauli Bazaar! The three of us, Holly, Vivian, and I, worked together in such harmony. It was just as Miss Emma, a friend from home, had prayed and prophesied—that we would be a 3-strand cord. Of course, I knew that God had an awesome plan in all of this. Yet the enemy had been putting doubt in my heart, causing me to worry that nothing special would happen. Even in Kathmandu I had felt an attack of intimidation, shyness, and fear that was making it hard for me to hear God. And Vivian had sensed a spirit of oppression bringing confusion and distraction. Of course the enemy would put up a fight. But God had been preparing me for this trip for years. I knew He had wonderful things planned. Lord, forgive me for listening to fear and doubt!

village girls on the trail

Thursday began early and it was grueling. As soon as we left Syauli Bazaar the stairs began. The entire day was steeply uphill and there were the stairs, lots of stairs. Now you may be thinking that 100 gazillion is hyperbole. Let me assure you that my legs would have begged to differ. I am thinking it must have taken years for those rock steps to have been laid into the mountain with no equipment except human labor. Since this is one of if not the most hiked trail in Nepal I assume that they were laid to prevent erosion, not for ease of walking. There was no uniformity, each step was a different size and height from the previous one, uneven and not always flat so one has to be looking at the next step always. Three hours on a stair stepper would be a breeze in comparison to our three hours climbing up to Gandruk. But, we took frequent breaks, the company was good, and the scenery was unimaginable, stunning enough to distract one’s mind from the pain.

At one rest stop there was a small trailside store.  Bhim started conversation with the shopkeeper while we were downing a CocaCola and snack.  She told Bhim that her father had become a follower of Jesus and she found that disgusting.  Well Bhim and Daniel L. talked with her for a few minutes and then she prayed to Jesus with them.  Just like that.  Amazing.  If for nothing else that painful day was completely worth while.

meeting a mule team on the road to Gandruk

As there are no roads in those mountains all goods are delivered to the villages either on the backs of men or mules.  In that region mule trains are very common both going up the trail carrying goods and then coming back down.  Nepali mules are very small, American donkey size.  So we kept calling them donkeys.  And our Nepali friends patiently kept explaining to us that, no, they are mules.  When we protested they informed us that a donkey has a cross on its back and Nepali mules are small.  And so we succumbed to their wisdom.  Our hosts quickly explained to us that when you meet a mule train you must always move to the inside (mountain side) because the mules don’t give an inch and will literally push a person off the ledge.

Sakura Tea House, Gandruk, Annapurna, Nepal

Finally we arrived in Gandruk (Ghandrung) village at 6400 feet (1951 m).  Right next to the stair-step trail were chairs and I am pretty sure that I dropped into the very first one!  My legs were done.  As we sat for a while and drank water we noticed other trekkers that popped up the trail did the same so we didn’t feel quite so wimpy.  Conveniently the chairs belonged to Sakura Tea House where we would stay the night.  Also very conveniently the tea house kitchen had outside service with the most breathtaking views one could imagine.  And, they served pasta.  The restaurant owners were a very tall British man and his tiny Nepali wife.  They had an actual menu, and the food choices were a welcome variety of cuisines.  There was also rudimentary electric service and outside the hotel was quite an unusual sight, a satellite phone booth.  On the trail side of the dining patio was a large, black and white goat tied in place with a rope.  He was quite friendly and the hotel owners informed me that his name was Michael.  Well, my son’s name is Michael and I will chalk it up to the delirium of exhaustion but because of his name I immediately became emotionally attached to Michael the goat and began to greatly miss my son.

Michael the goat

Although we were very tired, in the afternoon we prayed through the village but didn’t get a lot of insight at the time. On our walk we met a teacher and chatted with her for a few minutes. Her husband, the school headmaster, was out of town so we hoped that we could talk with him when we came back with the full team. Village teachers carry a lot of influence so we felt this was a key connection.

The Nepalese sing a lot and they sing well.  Daniel L sings Jesus songs virtually nonstop.  He sings on the trail, in the restaurant, wherever.  He also had a great boldness and gifting for sharing Truth with everyone he saw.  I greatly admired his boldness and felt a longing to be more like that.  

As I fell asleep I was listening to a playlist on my Sony MiniDisc Walkman. The song Shout to the North by Delirious? touched me deeply. (Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble? would also be very relevant to our journey.) As I listened I clearly felt God saying that the team needs to shout over Gandruk. Finally I prayed, “Lord, give me boldness. Please speak to us tomorrow about this area. Lead us and guide us!”

Friday we made a pleasant trek to Chomrong and back. At 7100 feet (2150 m) it was a a six mile climb. On the way we crossed a swinging bridge. There was a large, black, water buffalo bull standing near the end of the bridge behind a very large rock. To me he looked like he was guarding the bridge, staring ahead and upwards without moving. He made Holly think of a troll guarding a bridge. Vivian felt that he was a sentinel. I felt that he represented the spirit of a defiant protector, guarding the Gurung people from receiving Truth. He however didn’t appear to be strong because he was hiding behind the bolder. I believed that the “shout” would break him. From Chomrong we were able to pray over the Gurung villages, including Gandruk, on both sides of the mountain and the Holy Spirit moved me to weep over that region for a few minutes.

By the time I fell asleep that night I had the strategy for the Ghandruk region:
- shout from a high place to break the bondage over the people
- pray over the Gandruk School
- pray for the key people of the village
- pray for time alone with the hotel owner (I felt that his in-laws could be a hindrance.)
- pray against the sentinel (identified by seeing the water buffalo) guarding the Gurung people from the Truth.

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 6

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

Faces in the Mountains

Tuesday – Wednesday, March 7-8. There are two breeding centers in the world for Asian elephants. One is in Sri Lanka. The other is in Chitwan, Nepal. So, Tuesday morning before heading north we visited the local elephant breeding center. There are three major differences between the two African species and their Asian counterpart. 1) African elephants have much larger ears shaped like the African continent. Asian elephants have smaller, roundish ears. 2) Asian elephants have two “domes” atop their head while the African species’ heads are rounded. 3) Only male Asian elephants have tusks; both male and female African elephants can bear tusks.

It was absolutely fascinating to see so many elephants, from babies with their mothers to enormous males. While we needed to exert caution with the large males we were able to walk right up to the female and young animals and even touch them. The elephants are bred and raised there, then exported; many are trained to work and then sent to India.

At midmorning we headed north and late afternoon arrived at Pokhara, the second most populous city of Nepal located 120 miles (200 km) west of the capital city, Kathmandu. Pokhara is situated at the foot of the Annapurna Range of the Himalayas at a steamy elevation of 2700 feet (822m). Holly, Vivian, and I passed the evening browsing the multitudinous vender stalls amazed at the variety of practical as well as beautifully exotic items. Many of the stalls sold trekking and outdoor gear, much of it used and discarded by exiting trekkers and climbers. There were also a plethora of “knockoff” bags, purses, and gear bearing incredibly accurate fake labels of well known and expensive brands. I found a used sleeping bag and assumed it was an imitation North Face bag. On examination it appeared well made and of quality materials. As I had been cold one night in the jungle I was pretty sure that I needed more than my light blanket and sheet for the snowy heights we were about to scale. So after some bargaining I purchased it for $31.50. Well, twenty-three laters I am still using that bag which still looks “like new” and am pretty sure that it was the real deal! I also found a “Lowe” daypack with hip support for $15. I snatched that up as well because I had already determined I was not able to carry the backpack that my husband had given me which was huge, made of canvas with a metal outer frame and weighed several pounds empty. I donated it to the Nepali team who used it to carry supplies (and also struggled with its weight, I might add).

Our itinerary—in Nepal things rarely go exactly as planned so itineraries are flexible.

Wednesday, March 8, 2000 was perhaps the most exciting morning I have ever awakened to. Finally after so many years of dreaming and praying and yearning today I would begin my trek up the mountains of the Roof of the World. I was verging on being euphoric. But nerves were there too, what if the trek was too hard for me? And I was wondering what God was going to do. I imagined it being a bit like prayer walking in my neighborhood at home praying for the families, the community, and however I felt God was directing and showing me which sometimes included speaking against spiritual strongholds. What I would see this evening was lightyears beyond anything I had ever imagined.

village house outside Pokhara (notice that it is in the cover photo)

After breakfast and milk tea we loaded up the SUV and drove to Nayapul, the starting point for the Poon Hill Trek and the trek to Annapurna Sanctuary. We quickly unloaded and Mr. G., the driver, headed back to Pokhara. Robbie was leading us as we took to the trail. It was superbly beautiful. The warm morning breeze, the backdrop of snowcapped peaks, mountain streams, spring greenery and flowers at their finest. These eyes were finally beholding my beautiful Himalayan world.

The trek to Shaule Bazar was flat and short, so it was only a couple of hours or so to the tea house where we would sleep that night. Tea houses are common along Nepal’s trekking routes. They are rustic lodgings constructed usually of rough, weathered boards with rooms containing beds made also of rough planks and a thin cotton-stuffed mattress. They also have a primitive kitchen with clay cooking stoves and tables with chairs or benches to feed their guests and other weary travelers passing by. And for the necessary, just outside in the back would be an outhouse—water and a plastic mug provided, bring your own TP.

This tea house was owned by a young couple. Previous teams that Robbie had brought this way had talked with the woman and he felt that she was close to receiving Truth. Robbie had asked if we would also give her some time so after lunch we went over to where she was sitting and tried to chat a little. Her child was playing with a stuffed bear that played a tune in a language that sounded to me like Chinese. I didn’t understand the words but the melody was unmistakeable: “Be careful little eyes what you see, be careful little eyes what you see, for the Father up above is looking down in love be careful little eyes what you see.” I could hardly believe my ears! God is so faithful to provide a door! I asked if she understood the song and she said no so I explained the words and their meaning—that there is a loving God who always watches over and cares for us. Her reaction was positive but she didn’t give me a chance to say more.

We three Americans then went on a prayer walk through the village. The path from the tea house onward was starting an upward incline and at the end of the village became very steep. There was a river running swiftly to our right behind the teahouse with mountains beyond the river. The left side was also mountainous as was the north straight ahead, three mountainous sides, only the south behind us was open. One hundred feet or so past the tea house there was a small footbridge across a stream which ran from the mountains on the left and emptied into the river on the right. As we were crossing the bridge a Nepali woman passed us. Holly and I were looking around at the beautiful panorama when Vivian said, “That lady’s face is badly bruised!” We stopped, shocked, wondering if we should do something. Then Holly, pointing to one of the mountainsides on the left said, “There is a face in the mountain!” I turned to look and quickly saw the image created by wind, rain and erosion, and the natural rocks and vegetation. The face had a chilling expression and I immediately recognized it as something spiritual. Holly agreed. I stood and prayed for a minute and realized that it was the spirit of violence. Vivian said, “Yes, and also anger.” And then just to the right of violent anger we saw the face of fear with a horribly terrified expression.

Feeling astounded and in total awe that God had opened our eyes to discern the images we started walking again keeping our eyes glued to the mountains on our left. It was an overcast day but as we walked just a bit forward the sun suddenly popped out through a small break in the clouds and shined directly onto the next mountain—right onto the 3D face of the spirit of darkness hiding in a cave. Just as quickly the clouds moved back to hide the sun and the face was no longer visible. We prayed again and felt God was saying that He would shine His Light in this valley and break the darkness.

view from the ledge looking down toward Shaule Bazaar

We walked up a little farther to the end of the village where there was a ledge overlooking the valley and we sat down to pray.  Across the span of mountains straight ahead to the north I saw what looked like long, vertical claw marks.  As I prayed I felt they represented the devourer.  As we looked to the east there was a stone shrine, man built, on one of the mountainsides that I felt embodied the spirit of death.  A little south of the shrine we saw what looked like Buddha eyes, representing bondage.  Farther south was what looked like a cat mask which represented deception.  And finally to the far southeast was a face that filled much of that hillside.  It was styled in a way that reminded me of “The Scream” by artist Edvard Munch.  It was grotesque and the moment was surreal.  We prayed about that one for a while.  Finally I felt that the Holy Spirit was showing me that its name was false religion.  Inside the face of false religion were two more faces, eternal torment and eternal destruction/damnation.  

We had spent a good two hours praying through the village and God had opened our eyes to a total of eleven ruling principalities in that valley. The faces were formed on the mountainsides with elements of nature—trees, shrubbery, boulders, and erosion gullies and lines. The next morning when we pointed them out to our Nepali friends they could see them clearly and were amazed that no one had seen them before. They said the hair on their necks was standing up at seeing the images and I agreed, the atmosphere was eerie. Suddenly a book I had read came to mind, The Twilight Labyrinth: Why Does Spiritual Darkness Linger Where It Does? by George Otis Jr. In it Otis states that spiritual principalities rule where they have been invited in some manner, intentional or not, by human behaviors and activities, and that annual festivals in celebration of darkness give them permission to remain and grow stronger. He also says that in some places in the world the strongholds are so entrenched and the devil is so proud that he has literally etched his face/image there. When I read that I could not quite picture what he meant. But now, here, it appeared that by God’s providence we had stumbled onto one of those places. In the days to come we would find more faces along the trail but in no place so many as in Shaule Bazar. I asked God why that place and I believe he said that it was because Shaule Bazar was the gateway to that region.

our trekking circuit, a portion of the Annapurna Circuit

On returning to our tea house we were served what would be our staple meal for the next few days, noodle soup made with packaged raman in a delicious broth with greens plucked from the ground just outside the kitchen door.  As we were now past the boundaries of electrical service we ate by candlelight.  I watched carefully as the candles were lit, held for a few seconds and then tipped so that a drop or two of melted wax fell onto the wooden table.  Then the base of the candle was pressed into liquid wax which quickly hardened and held the candle firm.  I would mimic that technique every evening as we each would receive a candle to light our way to our room for the night.  That evening as I snuffed out my candle which was firmly stuck onto the window sill of our shared room and crawled into bed I had feelings that I don’t have words to describe.  I prayed thanking God for what He had shown us and asked Him for guidance and protection as we continued the journey that had only just begun.

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 5

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

Jungle Safari

Sunday-Monday, March 5-6. Our morning began early and after a quick breakfast we loaded the SUV and headed south towards Chitwan, which means “heart of the jungle,” for two days of fun and adventure. It was the dry season so the road was dusty; it was also extremely curvy—the 100 miles (160 km) took more than 6 hours to traverse. Chitwan District borders the northern Indian state of Bihar, and is known for its flora and fauna..and for elephants. Kathmandu at 4600 feet (1402 m) had a refreshing temperature of about 70 degrees F (20 C). As we inched lower and lower in elevation the temperature quickly rose and peaked at a toasty 95 F (35 C) in Chitwan.

fisherman cleaning his nets (lower left corner)
Holly on a suspension footbridge

Along the highway we noticed that at each village there was a concrete slab with a wall on one side that had a water pipe coming out at the top. The water ran continually. It appeared to be the local water supply as well as the village shower. Men and women bathed there at separate times clothed with sarong-like cloths as their only privacy. The level of poverty I began noticing and would continue to see throughout my travel was devastating. I had lived in South America and had seen mud and stick houses but I had never seen such stark conditions as I saw in rural Nepal. It was heart crushing.

Ps S & family
church and parsonage

Upon reaching the Chitwan area we went to the local pastor’s house to meet and encourage him and his wife, M. My daughter, Katie, had shared with me about meeting them on her first trip and since God had laid them heavily on my heart I felt compelled to visit them. Although very young, he was 25, they had been married for five years and had a son. Pastor S’s sister as well as two other children lived with them. As pioneers they felt isolated and lonely. Katie had informed me that they were quite discouraged. As we visited I strongly sensed that M was struggling. The couple agreed when I asked to pray for them and as I prayed I felt a heavy anointing and then God gave me a prophetic word of encouragement. M began sobbing as my words were translated and the Comforter was giving peace. Pastor S then showed us around his church and through the village. Near the end of our visit M gave baskets to Vivian and me and a woven purse to Holly. I then gifted Pastor S with a pocket watch I had brought along for him as a reminder that someone knows he is there and is praying for him.

Tharu woman grinding grain

As evening approached we returned to our lodge and feasted on dinner of dal bhat and the trimmings.  Afterwards we went to a Tharu culture program where we were treated to performances by stick dancers, incredible music with traditional drums, and finally a yak dance and a peacock dance.

As I bedded down I prayed, “Lord, thank You for a wonderful day and for using me.  Please lead and direct my paths and my words tomorrow.  I love You!!!

Monday began early on the back of an elephant for a jungle safari through the Royal Chitwan National Park. What fun! As a child I had seen the old version of Around the World in Eighty Days and vividly remember the scene of the elephant ride through the jungles of India. So this was like a childhood fantasy coming to life! We had barely begun our ride when the elephant driver turned to me and pointed at my precious water bottle. I was shocked. “He wants my water?!” I thought. Begrudgingly I passed my bottle to him. He uncapped it and to my surprise tipped his head back and poured from above his mouth a long drink of my fresh, cool water and then passed it back to me. Another cultural lesson learned. Drinking water is precious in South Asia because of the heat. Hindus have strict standards of clean and unclean foods that include not eating or drinking something that saliva might have contaminated. Water is vital for life and is always shared so this method of drinking is commonplace throughout the subcontinent. Many years later I have not mastered this manner of drinking, usually missing my mouth I wind up with a refreshingly damp shirt.

The jungle was lush, verdant and incredibly beautiful. We saw peacocks, mongooses, brightly colored insects, three kinds of deer, troops of monkeys in the trees and so much more. The midpoint and highlight of the safari was an open field where we could view up-close (because a rhinoceros won’t charge an elephant) an endangered one-horned white rhino mother and baby.

one-horned white rhino – endangered species
mother and baby rhin0s
peacock
deer

After breakfast Pastor S took us to visit a Tharu village where we were able to see the second church he is planting, which meets in a very basic, bamboo building. We also visited in the homes of some Christians. Their houses were simple but nice—mud walls, thatch or tile roofs, a wooden bed with a mat as the mattress, other sleeping mats rolled up and stacked by the wall. In a corner was the kitchen area which consisted of a cooking pit and some pots. An average family consists of ten to twelve children, all living in the typical one-room dwelling. One larger house was shared by two families, one family of believers, the other a Hindu family. As we walked through the village we were able to pray for a demonized man who hadn’t spoken for a year. After a short time he began saying, “Jesus Christ”. He then prayed with Pastor S to become a follower of Jesus.

Ps S in 2nd church
church interior
Tharu woman sweeping
Tharu village
kitchen with fire pit and pots

From there we went to a Musahar village. In sharp contrast it was very poor and dirty. Wild marijuana bushes nearly as tall as me grew all along the path in to the village. We peeked into a house and saw a very small and skinny man. Robby told us that he was “serving Mr. Shiva” meaning that he was using cannabis.

wild marijuana plants
house
Musahar school

After lunch we took a 4 1/2 hour long jungle trek enjoying even more of Nepal’s stunning loveliness and sighting evidence of many animals including a sloth bear. As the sun was dropping below the horizon we returned to our lodge by canoe. Such a full and wonderful day!

“Thank You, God, for blessing me with such new and exotic experiences!”

Tomorrow, at last, we will head north to the mountains!

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 4

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

Sabbath

Saturday, March 4.  After a great sleep Holly, Vivian, and I woke up refreshed and excited for the day that lay ahead. It was a glorious spring day in the Kathmandu Valley with sapphire blue skies and snowcapped mountains rimming the city.  Soon Christians would be gathering as Saturday is the weekly day-off in Nepal.  Leona and Mr G. came to pick us up from the guest house.  Since I didn’t have South Asian clothing I was nervous about being appropriate, so as we climbed into the SUV I asked Leona if my above the ankle length skirt and shirt were okay.  To my relief she assured me that our clothing was fine.

The church was quite large and when we arrived a crowd was already gathered. As we approached the door we spotted enormous piles of sandals and shoes outside the entrance. Culture dictates that shoes are never worn inside the house, places of worship, or anywhere that uses the floor for seating. I find it to be a reasonable practice; people walk most everywhere and the roads and paths are often muddy and always inhabited by animals so shoes are unclean. I must admit that anytime I left my shoes to enter a public building I was always a bit nervous about finding them on the way out, but they were always there waiting for me and that day would be no different. Incredibly it is very unusual for someone to lose shoes left by an entrance. Inside about 2500 people were seated shoulder to shoulder on exotic, red carpets, men on the right side and women on the left, with 500 more worshipping from outside. Another 1000, those under the age of fourteen, had been taken home after Sunday School because there was not room for them to be seated in the main service.

The service was wonderful, stirring, and in many ways much like what I was used to: worship, prayer, teaching, happy fellowship among believers.  There were also differences.  I had never seen such jubilation in celebrating the Presence of the One Who has set us free and promises to walk with us every moment.  Everyone was participating, singing loudly with many dancing joyously in adoration of the God of Love, Who forgives freely and welcomes all no matter caste or tribe or family or background.  I recognized the melodies of some of the songs as translations from Western hymns and choruses; other music had a Nepali flair.  Vivian, Holly, and I were given earphones so we could listen to the teaching translated into English.  The sermon was excellent.  The pastor spoke about idolatry, Elijah and the prophets of Baal, and gave three steps to bringing down the “fire of God”.  I felt humbled to the core to be worshipping with such vibrant followers of Jesus who very well understood what it meant to suffer for their faith.

After lunch we were invited to their Youth Aglow girls’ meeting where we were asked to speak.  After games, snacks and conversation, and praise and worship we each shared a word with the girls and I spoke from Psalm 139.  Once again the girls were totally involved in the meeting.  The joy, laughter, hospitality and friendliness was extraordinary.

Robby and Leona

Dinner was again at Robby’s house: dal bhat, vegetables, and chicken. Again delicious! Normally Nepalis eat with their right hand and no utensil but because they had guests everyone was using a spoon except Robby. Leona explained this cultural eating practice to us and said that Robby never used a utensil because the food tastes better with the hand only. At the time I judged that as just perception. But now after having eaten many meals with my hand I agree. The metal spoon changes the taste of the food kind of like an aluminum can changes the flavor of a Coke.

Daniel L
Daniel G

The two Daniels were also there, Daniel G. and Daniel L. Conversation was full of laughter as both Robby and Daniel G. were jokesters. Towards the end of the meal the conversation turned to our time before the arrival of the full team from Alaska. Robby started explaining to Daniel G., who would be our leader for those days, the speaking engagements he had planned for us. Realizing that he hadn’t understood the purpose of our early arrival I explained to him that we had come to prayer walk the circuit that the full group would trek. Daniel G. looked VERY surprised. I was thinking, “He was not expecting to walk that trail twice in such a short time!” I knew that It would be difficult for all of us and I knew that God would have to empower us to do it. (I have never been athletic and in all of my preparation I hadn’t thought much about preparing for walking endurance! Oops!) But I did not want to miss reaping the results of praying over the area where the team would be ministering! I desperately wanted to see what God would do through us. Thankfully they were very open to accommodating what we felt was God’s direction for our trip.

renown sadhu

As we drove back to our guest house, Kathmandu was in celebration.  Everywhere there were bonfires and people smoking marijuana.  It was Shiva’s day.  The contrast to the glorious day we had spent in worship and community in the Presence of the Almighty was stark.  It was a jarring reminder as to why we were there.  As I went to bed vivid in my mind were the faces of two boys I had seen the previous day at Pashupatinath with one of the sadhus whom people had come from all over to worship.  The two boys, faces painted with colored powders, were sitting near the holy man who appeared to be sleeping.  “It is a travesty,” I thought, “they don’t know that there is a better way.”  And I fell asleep praying for them.

My evening prayer was, “Lord, please show us what You would have us to do.  Please give us wisdom, discernment, direction, and insight.  Let us be able to hear Your voice clearly.  Please guide each step.  Without You we can do nothing!”

“‘For everyone who calls on the 
name of the Lord will be saved.’ 
But how can they call on him to save them 
unless they believe in him? 
And how can they believe in him 
if they have never heard about him? 
And how can they hear about him 
unless someone tells them?”

— ‭‭Romans‬ ‭10‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 3

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

Boots on the Ground

Friday, March 3.  From Kathmandu airport our hosts headed directly towards the outskirts of the city to Pashupatinath Temple, a huge, open-air, complex dedicated to Shiva, one of Hinduism’s three major (out of 330 million) gods.  The temple lies on both sides of the Bagmati River, considered a holy river because it is a tributary of the Ganges.  The temple grounds were teeming with thousands; some 50,000 people pass through every day during the three day celebration of the Shivaratri festival.  Most were decorated with brightly colored powders.  Several worshippers tried to put the vermilion power on my forehead as a blessing from Kali, the goddess of destruction.  To my western mind it was chaos.  Our ears were inundated with the sounds of gongs, blaring devotional music, prayers, and chanting.  The air was perfumed with aromas of spicy incense, marijuana, wood fires, and cremating corpses.  The atmosphere was heavy with darkness and I was immediately in shock, disoriented, my senses overwhelmed.

As we walked the paths we passed tables of colored powers along with religious symbols and trinkets for sale, constantly being pressed on all sides by the crowd of worshippers.  (Personal space is not a thing in South Asia.)  The pathways and river banks were lined with sadhus (Hindu holy men) sitting around campfires and smoking hashish, which the government dumped by truckloads next to the temple grounds to be used for worshiping the ganja-smoking god.  Robbie told us that about 2000 sadhus had walked barefoot from India for this festival.  Many were fasting and most sported dreadlocks and were draped in saffron or white; others were naked.

In one tent we watched a young woman dancing in celebration of the marriage anniversary of Shiva to the goddess Parvati aeons ago. In that area there were several tents in which people could consult with a sadhu fortune teller. One tent opened before me and as a man came out I could see that the inside was completely dark. Robbie encouraged me to go into the tent and talk with the sadhu. I froze. I could hardly think much less go in and try to reason with the holy man. In a couple minutes we moved on. As we were walking out of that sector a boy, about seven years old saw me, drew a big puff from his marijuana pipe, and with a look of defiance blew the smoke in my direction. It felt like a taunt from the spirit realm. The entire atmosphere was overwhelming, surreal, like being in a movie but much more, and it was all very much real.

We walked by the temple building which was only open to practicing Hindus, and across a bridge to the other side of the Bagmati River where there were several lingam courtyards.  The lingam is a symbol of Shiva and represents his infinite existence.  Robbie explained to us that women who could not conceive often came and prayed for a son in these gardens.

In the river devotees were bathing to receive cleansing from sin. Every few hours a Shiva lingam is bathed with honey, water, and milk and offerings of fruit and incense are made to it. Cremation funeral pyres lie on the ghats (stairs) which line the river banks. In Hindu culture the oldest son is responsible for executing the funeral rites for his deceased father (one reason why birthing a son is so important in Hindu culture). Once the cremation is completed the ashes are then swept into the holy river. If all this is carried out according to the set tradition it is believed that then a good reincarnation awaits the deceased and eventually after many reincarnations moksha (salvation) will be obtained and the soul is finally absorbed into Brahman, the divine impersonal force.

This experience was a crash course into the culture of a world grossly different from mine. Astonishment and confusion overwhelmed me. One huge thought was disturbing me and started a thought process that would last for the next couple of weeks. How can they be using the word “holy” for all of this? I felt indignant that they were using “my” word to describe something very different from my perception of what that word meant. Isn’t holy a word that applies to our pure, righteous, YHWH, God of Light?! That is the idea I had always held. Yet as my journey continued in this land so different from all I had ever known I realized that here the more holy a site was the more filthy and dark it was.

human ashes in the Bagmati River

In the days to come as I trekked and thought about this I remembered that the word holy doesn’t necessarily mean “morally good or perfect in righteousness”. It simply means “set apart from everything else for a specific purpose”. For example if my coffee pot is only used for coffee then I have a holy coffee pot dedicated to making only coffee. (firmisrael.org/learn/hebrew-meaning-holy-set-apart-for-purpose/) So according to this definition, like it or not, the usage is correct.

However John Piper tells us, “But in the Bible, that’s not the way the word holy is used. Holiness has taken on a moral meaning that derives from God’s holiness. In other words, God is separated from all that is not God and is in a class absolutely by himself. God, like the rarest diamond in the universe, is absolutely unique and infinitely valuable.

His holiness, therefore, most essentially consists in his absolute uniqueness and therefore the infinite value of his beauty and his excellence. He’s in a class by himself. He’s above all things. He’s sui generis. He’s distinct from everything that is not God, and therefore, he is of infinite and of absolute worth.” https://www.desiringgod.org/interviews/god-is-holy-and-righteous-are-those-the-same Jesus’ followers are called holy, not because we are perfect, but because of our association with Him; through His sacrifice for our cleansing from sin we have dedicated ourselves to God and are being transformed into His likeness. (2 Corinthians 3:16-18)

Friday evening is a blur in my memory but as I remember we were hosted for dinner at Robby and his wife, Leona’s, house where we were introduced to the rest of the Nepali team with whom we would be trekking in the days to come.  I would have tasted my first Nepali food but my eyelids were drooping and sadly I can’t remember.  Most likely it was dal bhat (lentils and rice) and curried vegetables with perhaps some chicken.  I am certain that it was delicious as Leona is an amazing cook and I have been blessed to enjoy heaps of incredibly good food at their house.

Our new friends later drove us to Thamel, the tourist sector located near the city center. They checked us into the Student Guest House and wished us a good night. We had a wonderfully sound night’s rest. Except for one surprising interruption. At 1:45 am we were startled awake by blaring music coming from the street below. Leaping out of bed we ran to the window and saw a colorfully clad procession walking slowly down the street behind a brass band and carrying torches for light. The next day Leona explained that it was a wedding procession taking the groom to collect his bride. (That custom always reminds me that one day Jesus will come with heavenly trumpets sounding to collect His Bride for the most amazing wedding banquet that ever will be!) Hindu weddings frequently occur at odd hours since the dates and times are set by an astrologer who determines the auspicious timing for each individual couple.

The simple prayer I wrote in my journal before bed that evening was:

“Lord, I ask for Your leading and guidance. Show us, Holly and Vivian and myself, what You would have us do. Lead and guide us every step. Protect us and give us wisdom.”

Doxology

Now to him who is able to keep you
from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory 
with great joy, 
to the only God, our Savior, 
through Jesus Christ our Lord, 
be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever.
Amen

Jude 24–25 (ESV)

Winds of the Himalaya – Part 2

Reminiscings from the Roof of the World

The Delay

Flash forward to 1999. Since that first call to the Himalayas I spent several years in Latin America after which my family and I returned to Alaska and settled in as pastors in Nikiski. There I was leading a community-wide outreach to children, loving it, and feeling fulfilled in what God was doing there. Well, almost. By then that yearning for those Asian mountains was burning in my bones and I felt as if I were nine-plus months with child and about to burst with the sense that the time was upon me.

I had been dreaming of Tibet but upon doing some online research it became apparent that due to the political climate and related restrictions travel to Tibet was not going to happen so I diverted my focus to the tiny Hindu Kingdom of Nepal. The more I learned the more excited I grew. At some point in the listening to what must have been my nonstop jabbering about this trip I was anticipating, my now adult daughter, Katie, caught the vision and decided to lead a team on an outreach trekking expedition to Nepal. When she shared her plans with me and invited me to come along I could hardly contain my excitement. But. As I prayed I had a hard NO from the Holy Spirit. This would not be my time to go; I would have to wait a little longer. Strangely I had peace with that decision and fully supported Katie as she put her plans together. And then while she was preparing her trip to Nepal something strange and frightening happened to me.

It was on a Saturday night. A group was meeting to pray at our church in preparation for Sunday services. One participant requested prayer for their brother who throughout his lifetime had vanished numerous times; his most recent disappearance had already lasted for years. As we began to pray I saw something like black smoke leave the person and fly towards me. I knew that it was an evil spirit and closed my eyes and silently screamed, “NO!” A few days later my husband and I drove to Anchorage to attend a weekend marriage enrichment seminar. While there I began to feel more and more agitated. That night I was sleepless and began thinking seriously about running away, vanishing. I spent the entire night thinking of how I could disappear without a trace, where I could go, how to get there, how to survive, how to become unfindable. Never once did I consider the idea that someone might miss me or that my actions might be hurtful to my family. The next day was no better. I knew that the spirit from Saturday night was harassing me and was the cause of all this turmoil but I felt powerless to free myself or even to ask for help. That evening when my husband came to our room to get ready for the next session (he was a social butterfly and had spent all of the time between sessions mingling) I mustered all of my strength and managed to ask him to pray for me. He prayed quickly, but thank God, that was enough, I was free.

What did I learn from this experience?  
— The enemy of our souls is merciless when it comes to protecting what he considers his domain from threatening intruders.   
— I am not a superhero immune to the enemy’s attacks.  
- God knows the future.
— I must be dependent on the Holy Spirit for every breath and every step. 
— Never give the devil a foothold (Ephesians 4:27 NIV).  I had come to the prayer meeting angry with my husband and from there proceeded to be critical of the guest speaker’s methods.  Unresolved anger and criticism are sins that opened a door to the enemy.

Although I didn’t have an inkling of the strongholds and dark powers that I would ultimately face I full well knew when I saw the 1999 team off at the airport that I was in a weakened state after that battle and I thanked God for His protection by keeping me home a little bit longer.

As it turned out, as least from my point of view, that first team was like Joshua and Caleb exploring the Promised Land.  They came back with a full report of all they had done, seen, and learned.  Rolls and rolls of quickly developed 35mm film (this was the pre digital camera age) along with their never-ending stories was a crash course for me.  I learned about boots and blisters and moleskin and liner socks, breaking off toothbrush handles to lighten a backpack, lack of oxygen at high altitude, the difficulties of trekking steep inclines for days on end, outhouses and no toilet paper and just a bush where there was no outhouse, and the icy showers which were far between and always a blessing.  I also learned about the amazing Nepali team that led them — never tiring, full of joking and laughter and love, fully committed to the cause and passionate to reach those who had never heard, arguably the most hospitable people on earth.  They told me stories of treating the sick because Tylenol, bandaids, and Neosporin were treasures unavailable to the mountain people along the way.  Most importantly I heard the stories of the exhausting spiritual oppression and how the booklets that the team handed out to the villagers were mostly all tossed to the ground unread by people whose minds were blinded (2 Corinthians 4:4).

All of that intelligence was immensely useful as Katie and I began planning the next trip which would occur March 2000. We would trek the same trail that first team had traversed, a portion of the Annapurna Circuit. Robby Rai, who had been recommended to Katie to guide her first trip would again be our leader. We would be a team of fourteen men and women, students to middle aged. As I prayed in preparation for this, my first trip, I felt strongly impressed that I needed to go ahead of the team to prepare the way by prayer walking the circuit so that strongholds might be weakened and hearts and minds might be open to receive the Good News. Two ladies volunteered to go with me, Vivian who was my age and Holly a young adult. We raised funds, recruited prayer support, and collected donations of medical supplies to gift to schools along the way.

As a sign of support my husband bought me a brand new, heavy duty back pack from a local outdoor shop.  I filled it with the items on my packing list.  When I tried it on I immediately fell over backwards from the weight!  A bit of fear gripped me for a minute; was I physically strong enough to do this?!  I thought I needed all that stuff, lol, but downsizing was definitely required.  I unpacked and repacked again and again until I had it down to a bearable weight.  At last March 1, 2000 arrived, that marvelous day I had anticipated for almost seventeen years.  I was ecstatic, downright euphoric. 

The flight from Anchorage to Kathmandu was approximately 24 hours in the air plus layovers and an overnight in Bangkok. I never felt tired; joy, excitement, and a lot of adrenaline would carry me through the entire month ahead. It was March 3 on an early morning flight when approaching Kathmandu I finally glimpsed those snowy peaks I had been yearning for.

Nothing can prepare one for their first landing at KTM, Tribhuvan International Airport, Kathmandu, Nepal.  The mind-boggling sights, the concrete building’s echoing sounds, the pungent smells, the endless queues, the confusing procedures of clearing immigration, the sari-clad women bent over sweeping with tiny asian grass brooms — it was unlike anything I could have imagined, which was true of that entire first visit to my beloved Nepal.

Once Vivian, Holly, and I had cleared immigration and were officially in Nepal we headed outside where we were quickly retrieved by our Nepali contact, Robby Rai, along with Daniel G., and our driver Mr. G. (It was Robby’s practice to never speak the name of a false god so Mr. G’s name was shortened to an initial.) The high altitude sun was intense on our Alaskan skin as we weaved through the dusty parking lot and climbed into Robby’s white SUV. It was as if I were in a dream — shocked, dazed, everything a blur. Once we were settled into the car and bumping along the pothole-riddled roads, Robby turned to Daniel G. and said, “Shall we take them to the pit of hell?”

Pashupatinath Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal