Day 9

Soon we will be making our way to the airport in Delhi (our flight leaves at 3 AM) and head back to the United States. This has been a tremendous time with Sam Bandela and participating in just a bit of the CBF work he is overseeing in Nepal. Regrettably we were not able to visit the slum churches in Delhi since they do not even convene until 9 pm and by then we need to be focused on getting our belongings together for our jaunt home.

While I have visited developing countries before and lived in one for nearly three months, Nepal is like nothing I have ever experienced before. It is exotic, mysterious, beautiful, grimy, struggling, searching, at times hoping and at times despairing. There are great people doing great work for the sake of God’s kingdom.

Two words come to mind: hope and love. Hope is the one thing that keeps a human being from sinking fully into despair. Hope can come through things (like food and shelter) and it can come through people. Hope is the essential message for the Christian. Such hope, however, is not merely a profession, but lived out in the second word I mentioned: love. Love is what compels people to give of their lives into a different culture to redeem the innocents and stand in the face of injustice. I have seen both hope and love at work among Christians from across the globe gathered in the country of Nepal.

Milton Martin and I are most blessed that we were able to travel here in the name of First Baptist and in the name of above all names. It is Jesus who compels us to love the least, the last and the lost. What a holy commissioning we have and what a big world we have to discover Jesus in such faces.

Thank you church family for these 11 or so days away. No doubt when we get home I will need a few days of re-acclimating and resting, but I look forward to sharing with you in worship on Sunday morning.

“Jai Messeh ho” (praise the Lord),

Greg

Day 10

Riding to the Taj Mahal the other day was the most demanding of my time away. Riding to the airport to go home was the most terrifying. Our driver wheeled in and gave us a broad smile minus a few teeth. There seemed to be a whiff of alcohol on his breath, but hey, it was midnight, we had a flight to catch and we were ready to go home. The good thing about driving through Delhi at midnight is that the traffic is not that bad. The downside is that it gives the drivers enough distance to build up some considerable speed. Keep in mind I am harnessed in a vehicle whose metal exterior is about as thick as a chewing gum wrapper. For the next 20 terrifying minutes we would go from fifty to zero and back to fifty in 10 second increments, all the while riding the bumper, or the fender, or the grill of the nearest other driver. Did I mention I smelled alcohol on his breath?

I am glad to say we made it to the airport safe, including our luggage which was strapped on top by a bungee cord and prayer (I was praying, Milton was looking). The airport of Delhi is one of the most beautiful I have ever been in, but it was also remarkably crowded for the middle of the night/morning. Our first leg of the flight was just over nine hours where we were dropped off into Heathrow to wait for the next available flight to Atlanta which would not be for another seven or so hours.

We caught our flight to Atlanta just fine without any delays and nine hours later, in addition to passport control, customs, security, and baggage, we were greeted by our wives at the top of the escalator at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.

Sleep in my own bed was good and peaceful and it is a gift to wake up in Georgia again! Our total time away was eleven days almost to the hour. Milton and I appreciate the opportunity to serve and bear witness as well as to come home and share. Grace and peace, Greg

Day 6

Nothing like waking up to a view of the Himalayas! The morning was clear and the view from our room was outstanding. After a nice simple breakfast we hiked through the village of Nargakot and took in the scenery. Even though this is a “tourist” area because of the hotels facing the mountains, the locals live in structures that resemble something like chicken coops. Yet everyone was busy about their day, reasonably happy and content. Butchers were chopping slabs of something atop a plywood counter along the dirt road; several ladies were huddled around a blanket full of onions and garlic, preparing something for a wedding; and idol makers were busy carving masks for sale to Hindu homes. Yes, that last sentence was completely accurate. In fact there were several idol makers working on masks in a village that could not have been more than a couple of hundred in population.

We left around noon to head back to Kathmandu. The road seemed more bumpy and rough than I remembered it going up. By the time we were down the mountain I was a green as my winter collards. In fact, even as I write this I am not sure when, if ever, I will eat again! I am sure I will get over this soon enough.

I am not sure when I will have internet connection again, so let me share with you what remains of our trek. Tomorrow morning I will be preaching at the Kathmandu International Christian Congregation, which ministers to English speaking residents of Napali. While some Nepalese attend the church, the church itself encourages Naplese to support the churches in their city. This may sound counter-intuitive, but this is to encourage local growth among the Nepalese and not create systems of dependency with Western congregations. The pastor of the church is Rendell Day, former missionary with the International Mission Board, and most recently with Habitat for Humanity. Here is what he wrote to me in an email before we left for Nepal:

…services are very informal, I usually preach in jeans, open shirt, etc. The  worship style varies but is usually quite comtemporary. We have about 8 worship teams …The demographics of the church is quite balanced with families, singles and youth. The attendance runs from 300-375. 

We meet in a school hall and sit on plastic chairs, wooden benches and mats. There about 40 nationalities represented in the congregation from a wide variety of denominations (High church Anglican to Latin American Pentecostal and everything in between).

After services we will make our way to the airport and fly to India for a few days. While in Delhi I will preach at a house church in one of the slums that Sam cares for as part of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship mission.

This will likely be my last blog for Nepal, but hopefully others in India. Let me quickly reflect in saying I have met some fine people doing great work. Much of the great work is coming from the Nepalese Christians who are seeking to create a better future, especially for the “least of these.” I have also been inspired by the good work non-Nepalese Christians who have dedicated their lives in Nepal to encourage and help equip the work taking place here.

The other evening Milton and I sat down with the young Nepalese woman who oversees all six of the homes with Apple of God’s Eyes and asked her what were her specific needs. She noted the usual things: medical care, clothing, etc., but when pressed she said they really needed good generators to supplement the long power outages each day. To provide them for all the homes and school will cost about $15,000, which is a hefty sum of money in Nepal where the average Nepalese lives on less that $2 a day.

Yet in our brief time working with these folks, I am certain their future looks promising. Children rescued from trafficking are growing up and now making a difference. Grace can never be paid back but it can certainly be paid forward.

It is full of grace that I close these words,

Day 7

Sunday

As I write this it is actually Monday night, but this is the first chance I have had since my last posting. Sunday at Kathmandu International Christian Congregation was a wonderful conclusion to our time in Nepal. The congregation numbered well over three hundred, in addition to the many folks who could not find a seat inside, but had to crowd around the doors to sing and participate. The congregation can best be described as a micro-United Nations of Christians with folks from many different countries, traditions, professions, etc. There were Bible translators from the Wycliff Society, missionaries from various agencies, diplomats, and Napalese pastors (whose churches typically worship on Saturday, the only official day off in Nepal). I preached in blue jeans and an open collared shirt and had a bamboo stand as a lectern. We sang several old hymns set to new arrangements, which made me feel a bit more at home. While I offered, Milton declined to preach another sermon. All the same, he was a good participant.

One of the pastors I met was from Burma (Myanmar). He escaped two years ago and since that time has lost a brother and several friends due to political and religious persecution. It is quite humbling to be around people such as this young man who bear so much in this life.

We had a pleasant, but brief lunch with the pastor, his wife Theresa, and young Nepalese family, and some of our hosts. Soon we were at the International Airport of Kathmandu (which is just slightly bigger than the Augusta airport) and exchanging sad goodbyes with our new Nepali friends. The flight was about an hour and a half, which included a sweeping view of the western chain of the Himalayas. I even woke up my seat mate so that he could enjoy the view too!

We are staying for the next two nights in rooms at Delhi’s YWCA, which are dormitory style and very economical. The rooms are clean and they are secure which are two great things to appreciate in Delhi. Delhi is a modern city on the one hand, but still distinctly Indian. It was a long day, but a good one and rest and sleep was welcome.

Day 8

Monday

The alarm called me up from slumber and into what turned out to be one of the “hardest” days I have had since on this mission for reasons I will soon explain. This is ironic since today is set aside as a site-seeing day before we fly out Tuesday night. Today’s site was the Taj Mahal, one of the “Seven Wonders of the World.”

Bright and early we climbed into our car that we had rented for a day to make the drive from Delhi to Agura – just 120 or so miles away. What I did not know, but Sam knew only too well, is that what would take us less than two hours to drive on our interstates, would be more than four hours on Indian roads. There is no question that the roads were far better than the ones we traveled in Nepal, but that is not saying much. Through the entire drive the air was thick – I mean slate-blue, gritty, dusty, stifling, thick – with smog. There was smoke billowing from brick kilns fired by wood and brush; garbage fires burning alongside the road; dung smoke used by locals for cooking; and car, motorcycle and auto-rickshaw exhaust fumes. I have no idea how anyone travels by car in India.

We bumped our way through farmland and villages and cows – everywhere cows – monkeys, buffalo, and the occasional stray dog negotiate through traffic as adept as the Indian drivers. With such a long stretch of road you would think there would be plenty of distances between villages but more often than not it was just continual stream of humanity with patches of farmland filling the gaps.

After about four hours we made it to the Taj Mahal, but I will spare you the tour guide synopsis. You can read about it on wikipedia. Suffice it to say it was a majestic site. We also visited an ancient fort (forgive me, the name escapes me but it was built during the time of the moguls.

Getting home turned out to be tricky. Apparently when you hire a car and guide you not only get transportation and guided explanations in incomprehensible English, but you are taken on a “forced” shopping jaunt to various stores – all of which give the drivers and guides kickbacks. We smiled and indulged the shopkeepers, but most of the time walked out without buying anything. Everyone has to make a living, right? In fact that is one very positive impression I have had of both the Nepalese and Indian people – they are highly industrious and work unbelievable hard for what little they have.

Our drive home can best be described as grueling – four and half hours. We remained steadfast in our car the whole time and passed the time easily with story-telling, discussing politics, arguing politics, and learning about important mission strategies taking place in South Asia as well as around the globe.

At one intersection, just as it was getting dark, beggars came knocking our windows asking for money for food. This has happened all day during our travels. One little girl – could not have been more than six – was at my window. It is just heart breaking that children are born into this life of begging and will likely live the rest of their life in such a way. It is precisely these children that are the most vulnerable to the human trafficking problem that we have been addressing. It is important to celebrate the success stories like Apple of God’s Eyes, but it is just as important to be mindful that there is much, much more work to do.

We did arrive back to the Y safe and sound and enjoyed a meal of chickpeas, lentils, rice and vegetables – all for about 3 dollars.

Sam and I went for a walk that night around the city, while Milton called it an evening and said goodnight. Delhi is a city of stark contrasts, as most modern cities are. While there are contemporary buildings and newly constructed expensive hotels, the sidewalks are lined with people of all ages sleeping; the roads are thick with garbage, and people use the bathroom pretty much wherever they want to go (sorry to be so direct). We walked to one of the major Hindu temples which is not far from where we are staying and they were having services. It was filled with exotic noises and sites as well as the amplified din of the “priest” leading in the service. Apparently what I thought were Muslim calls to prayer yesterday morning was actually coming from this temple.

While this day did not involve any mission work, it certainly was a revealing day regarding the work that continues to be needed in this great part of the world. Indians are industrious and hard working people. There is much room in their lives for hope.

Bless you and keep you,

Hard to believe that it is only until day three that I can post of my first night’s sleep, but such is the way of air travel and time zones. Sam (the CBF missionary), Milton and I share a room here in Kathmandu and while we each have our own cot there is hardly room for anything else except snoring. The house we are in is rented by several Christian workers associated with the Apple of God’s Eye Ministry, which was started by Brazilian believers but now is largely run by local Nepalese. Our house is clean and efficient, and although the cots are reminiscent of what it is like to be camping on the ground, we are snug and dry. Electricity is scarce throughout Kathmandu with daily outages lasting 12-14 hours. I have to make certain both the computer and phone are charging during the night (because the electricity usually comes on around 10 at night) so that I can have them when I need them during the day.

The weather is pleasant and cool. As I write this paragraph it is just after seven in the morning and the sun is starting to rise, shining through a thin fog of mist and smog.

After a delightful breakfast prepared by one of our hosts, we took a bumpy ride out of our suburban home (there are pot holes here that could have swallowed my old MINI), we arrived for the Pastors Conference that I was invited to address. The church that hosted it is called the “Listen and Believe Church.” It is one of the largest Nepalese churches in Kathmandu. It is a simple structure of four brick walls with a slant roof, two doors and two windows over a mud floor covered with pieces of carpet. Since Sunday is a work day, but Saturday is not, they meet every Saturday for worship. When we arrived we heard echoing down the little dirt road and soon we too were part of their worship (all in Nepalese). These ministers came together to hear encouragement and teaching from Sam and me, but Milton was asked to speak as well. This surprised him, but not only did he oblige, he enthusiastically shared and gave witness of his faith. When he finished there was great applause! All three of us had a great translator who is also a pastor in Nepal.

After several hours we took a break to eat lunch in their “fellowship hall” which was a tent structure with a few chairs for honored guests and the elders. We were served local dishes of rice, puri (fried bread), spicy chicken that tasted like curry, and wonderful conversation. Milton pushed his food around but was quite gracious and appreciative. I had seconds. Milton had a pepcid.

That afternoon we reconvened and I shared again with them about our common work and responsibility as Christians. For my afternoon text I used the story of the feeding of the 5000. Amazing how these ancient stories in the Bible apply to churches as far apart as Augusta is from Kathmandu. Once again, my translator did a superb job and I got the feeling he was adding to my sermon at an effort of improving my remarks. I asked Milton if he would like to speak again, but he said he probably only had one sermon a day in him!

All of the ministers and their families were very appreciative of our leading this day of mutual encouragement and exhortation. Of course I was the one that was appreciative to have been asked to be a part. We were rewarded with smiles, hugs and salutations of “jai-massiha” (praising Jesus). It was a long but rewarding day. Milton and I were humbled by the depth and sincerity of their faith that gives so much hope to circumstances that otherwise could be described as oppressive. Dignity is a wonderful gift of God.

We spent the evening with some other host families who provided desserts and coffee. Keep in mind that just a couple of hours later we went back to our host home to have supper. While Milton went hungry for lunch he has made up for it with his stash of snacks, surprise desserts, and late night dinner. For entertainment we had Milton cracking jokes and keeping all our hosts in stitches. One of the Nepalese who helped make dinner asked the meaning of our names, to which Milton replied, “My name means ‘horse thief’ and Greg’s name means ‘slow.’”

We are still a bit “punch-drunk” with jet lag and working fairly long and involved days, but I could not ask for more fulfilling experiences. Like all good mission trips, we are receiving far more than we are giving. Tomorrow too promises to be another one of those days as we visit the school and home of “Apple of God’s Eye” ministry. Milton best be working on his remarks. When I am through I will call on him next.

Remember that I am grateful to you for allowing us this time to serve.

Day 4 (Thursday)

I had a great night’s sleep from 11:30 until 2:45am. It was about that time that my eyes opened and said, “get up Greg, it is 3:30 Wednesday afternoon in Augusta!” Oh well, this is to be expected. Just in case anyone wants to know roosters and dogs are up this early too.

I have several more hours before breakfast, but once that rolls around (8 AM), we will take off and visit the school and some more of the homes of the Apple of God’s Eye Ministry. As I have shared before, this is a ministry that provides six houses for rescued prostitutes, those that are at risk for prostitution and children of prostitutes. This ministry now has the recognition of the government and can repatriate any Nepali anywhere in the world who is victim of human trafficking.

These girls and boys (many of which were sold into human trafficking as early as 8 years old) are effusive with love and tenderness. When I noted this to one of the workers and commented that I would have expected a high level of distrust considering their history, she said that they were teaching them that there is good love in this world and that all who stay here have dignity and worth. She went on to say that no one is allowed in these homes except for those we (the organization) fully trust. Therefore it is a real privilege for Milton and me to be invited in to their trust. Through Sam, this ministry has received generous support from the CBF.

When we arrived at the school all 200-plus children ranging pre-K to high school greeted us enthusiastically and draped our necks with “kata” silk scarves, a Tibetan tradition of welcome (this is the third time we have been so welcomed since arriving here). They first gave a pledge to the Nepali flag and then recited the Lords Prayer. First I was invited to speak and then Sam and Milton gave a greetings on behalf of our church. Next we toured the school and entered every classroom, each time the children would stand at attention and greet us again.

This school ministers to the lowest caste in Hindu society and although it is distinctly and unapologetically Christian, they welcome all – Buddhist, Hindu, Hare Krishna and others. Along with the children of the homes, the take in children who in one form or another have suffered abuse and neglect. With no advertising they are fully enrolled and are struggling to keep up with the need to enroll more. The administration operates with the philosophy of loving the children into God’s love.

We next visited the very first home that started Apple of God’s Eye Ministry. In its earliest days it housed over fifty boys and girls rescued from human trafficking. This home, while very spacious by Nepalese standards, is only four bedrooms. Eliza grew up in this home and now oversees it. Meanwhile she is also studying to be a lawyer. Her prayer is to be the Prime Minister of Nepal – we should pray for this too. What a demonstration of redemption we have going on in so many lives.

Our next stop was lunch and this time it was tame – KFC. It was not my idea but it had Milton’s vote! Actually our hosts wanted to take us there. There are only two American chains in all of Nepal and the other one is Pizza Hut. They actually cater to tourists since a four dollar meal (the cost of my lunch) is several times more than a Nepalese would normally pay.

The afternoon was spent shopping in Thamal district where you can buy everything from Buddha statues to counterfeit backpacks. It was also the first time we saw Caucasians since we arrived.

We visited Pashupatinath, Hindu’s most holy site in all of Nepal. It is made up of temples, ghostly mystics who live in and around there, and the sounds of grieving families. Alongside these temples are the cremation ghats were there are the constant fires of Hindus being cremated and then there ashes pushed into the Bagmati river. The air was thick with its smoke and the smell was simply ghastly. Milton and I watched around five different pyres of cremations fires as well as a body being prepared. I have never scene or experienced anything quite like it and we left there feeling much heavier than when we entered.

“When little hands give big blessings…”

It was a good providence that after Pashupatinath we visited another one of the homes and were regaled with loud and rambunctious singing from the children. Once again Sam and I were asked to speak and we were happy to oblige. Milton was introduced as “Pastor Milton” and instead of correcting anybody he decided he too had a message. He mustered up another sermon and shared very loving and hopeful words to the children.

They were then invited to lift up their hands to pray a blessing over their new American friends. At this point dozens of children and teenagers jumped up and surrounded us, placing their hands on our heads, shoulders, and back and prayed for us. The room was buzzing with their prayerful murmuring.

Those little hands give big blessings.

We enjoyed a meal with them and left this house around 9:30. It is near 11pm as I type this and we have to get up at 4:30 am for our next big event. With that I am lifting up my somewhat bigger hands and praying a blessing for you too.

Day 5 (Friday)

Today is the first of two days where we simply “played.” It began with the alarm waking us at 4:30 am. Milton, Sam and I reserved tickets on “Buddha Air” to fly around Mt. Everest. The flight left around 7 and returned an hour later and it was a wonderful use of time and money. The two attendants point out seven of the tallest peaks in the world, including the mighty Everest. I have no desire (or money or time) to climb Mt. Everest, but seeing it up from the window of a small plane is not a bad experience.

Following our flight we made our way to Boudanath, the UNESCO site of the largest settlement of Tibetan Buddhists. There is a large stupa in the center and it is surrounded by shops of most every variety. It is a sea of crimson and saffron robes of Tibetan many of which are now living in or around this area. Many more have made pilgrimages just to be there. We stopped several who sweetly agreed to pose for pictures. Neither Milton or I felt the need to shave our heads or don their robes, but we enjoyed looking and shopping that morning.

We then had lunch at a nice, simple restaurant overlooking the stupa. To my delight they had a genuine cappuccino machine and suddenly I was transported back to Italy. This particular restaurant intentionally hires the outcasts of society – dwarfs, developmental disabilities, and other limitations that would likely leave them impoverished and begging. Once again we see redemption at work in interesting corners. I enjoyed “Hot Potatoes” which had the most unusual blend of spices, and Nepali Curry Chicken. Both dishes were well prepared and spicy HOT. I brought Tums just in case, but I made it through the day with no event.

After a nice lunch we began a two hour bumpy journey to the village of Nargakot. It is only about 30km ride but it took two hours due to the roads. They are partially paved but that only makes for more jagged pot holes. I am the one most prone to motion sickness, but I happily made it through the winding, jarring ride up to the hotel where we would spend the night. The hotel itself is luxurious by Nepali standards, but rather simple and clean would be the way most Americans would describe it. The television was an old thirteen inch model that only picked up stations in India in the Hindi language. None of this really mattered because outside our balcony from left to right there is  magnificent view of the Himalayan mountains. Far to the right of the chain, well into the distance, you could just make out Mt. Everest. You do not need a television when you have that kind of view!

We met our new friends, Pastor Rendell and Theresa Day, who made all the arrangements for the overnight stay. Since there was still plenty of sunlight we took a short hike up a paved mountain road and enjoyed the varying views. We passed several Tea Houses which are little more than crude plywood stands selling tea and other refreshments. Some tea houses also provide lodging, which can best be described as crude camping without the tent. It is not uncommon for the owners of the tea houses to live there. All totaled we hiked about five miles. which proved to be a good way to stretch out our legs after the white knuckle ride to get there.

Supper was a nice affair of local dishes. If you like lentils, rice, and curry, you will get along fine. Thankfully I do. They also served some greens which were “electric green” but slightly bitter. They too were delicious. I tried their famous buffalo yogurt which was quite good. Come to think of it I have yet to eat a dish that I have pushed to the side.

No great surprise right?

Bedtime came early for me because I have not been sleeping well. Even this night would be a bit compromised. In spite of a sleeping aid, I still did not begin dreaming until midnight. Amy always begins my dreams this was not a bad way to close out a great day enjoying the Himalayas.

The first leg of our trek was happily uneventful in the grand scheme of travel. My overhead bin was already occupied with what looked like a tour bus load of luggage. Eventually I found enough space for a shoe box and with so maneuvering, shoving, and cajoling I was able to cram my backpack into it. I did warn the passengers beneath to not hastily open the overhead, less they suffer an avalanche.

 We left Atlanta around 8:30 PM, more or less on time, and it was about that time that I realized I left my books in the backpack, in the overheard, 10 rows back.

 After a delightful meal of what looked like lasagna, Milton and I settled in for the remainder of the 8 hour flight to London. In spite of a toddler that cried all night and the chronic hacking of someone who obviously had swine flu, I managed to get some sleep. I had nothing else to do since the lady in front of me reclined to the point that her scalp was just beneath my gaze, which meant for frustrating reading unless I propped my book on her forehead. Later into the evening an attendant noticed my dilemma and quickly determined that her seat was broken, which was not at all inconvenient to her since this allowed her to fully stretch out.

All of this is rather minor in the larger context of our mission. At Heathrow we whiled away a few hours before boarding our flight to Delhi for the second leg of our trek. This flight was about 8 ½ hours. Two highlights that are of no great consequence, but since air travel can be quite dull, I try to celebrate simple things. The first is that Milton and I got exit aisle seats, which meant for more leg room. Secondly, the in flight meal was a wonderful curry chickpea dinner accompanied with a “lime pickle” which turned out to be a condiment. My seat mate was Indian so she explained to me that you could add it to the basmati rice or the curry leafs to spice it up a bit. It turned out to be a delicious fusion of citrus and chilies. Milton for some reason did not want his so I got a chance to double up!

Our layover in Delhi was only to be 2 ½ hours but due to fog we spent one more hour waiting for our flight to Kathmandu. The flight was pleasantly brief and we arrived to one of the most unique airports I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. Not surprising, it was small. The exterior was entirely of brick and it had a nice open air quality to it. Speaking of air, it is quite dusty and smoky, which is typical of developing countries. Just outside of the airport is the Hindu site for cremations, which we will visit in a few days.

We were greeted by our new Kathmandu friends with gifts of flowers and scarves, which made us feel as if we were visiting dignitaries. After a rather sketchy ride in a truck weaving through cars, buses, motorcycles and farm animals, we made it to the house where we will be staying for the next several days.

After a delightful lunch prepared by our hosts, we left to visited two of the six homes that make up the Apple of God’s Eye Ministry, which is CBF helps support. I will write more about this in the days ahead, but this mission is necessary use our mission dollars.

This has been one long day that somehow started on Sunday evening and has not ended until Tuesday night. Of course I think I am speaking too soon because something is howling right outside my window. Our total duration of travel to get to Kathmandu was well over 26 hours, covering 8,888 miles!

As much as time and WiFi connections will allow, I will be blogging about my opportunity to speak in Nepal and India. Last summer I was invited by Sam Bandella, Cooperative Baptist Fellowship Field Personnel to Nepal and India to come and speak to Christian workers in both countries as well as visit several mission sites that our church helps support through the CBF.

Our flight leaves Atlanta tonight with the first leg ending in London. There we will connect and fly to New Delhi, India and will change planes one final time to fly into Kathmandu, Nepal. All total we will be traveling 25 hours to begin work in a country that is 10 hours and 45 minutes ahead of eastern time zone (I have no idea what is up with that 45 minute block but when in Kathmandu).

Milton Martin will be traveling with me and joining me on each of these mission stops. We covet your prayers throughout this time.

Click on the following link to several videos I have posted regarding our “Trek to Nepal” – http://vimeo.com/37066235.  

Peace be with you and as the say in Nepal, “Namaste”,

Greg

Philosophy

New Proofs for the Existence of God: Contributions of Contemporary Physics and Philosophy, by Robert J. Spitzer

The Physics of Immortality, Frank J. Tipler

Religion/Spirituality

Have a Little Faith, by Mitch Albom

Jesus Wept: When Faith and Depression Meet, by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton

Shaped by God’s Heart: The Passion and Practices of Missional Churches, Milfred Minatrea

A Door Set Open: Grounding Change in Mission and Hope, by Peter L. Steinke

Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, by Richard J. Foster

The Naked Now, by Richard Rohr

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, Richard Rohr

Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India, by William Dalrymple

Guide for Grief: Help in Surviving the Stages of Grief and Bereavement After Loss, by Rodger Murchison

Fiction

The Book of Sorrows, by Walter Wangerin

The Red Tent, Anita Diamant

Poetry

The Back Chamber, by Donald Hall

Leadership

The Secret: What Great Leaders Know and Do, by Ken Blanchard and Mark Miller

Ecology

The View From Lazy Point: A Natural Year in an Unnatural World, by Carl Safina

Drifting Into Darien, by Janisse Ray

Miscellaneous Non-Fiction

Salt: A World History, Mark Kurlansky

Harlan Hubbard, by Wendell Berry

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand

Travels in Siberia, by Ian Frazier

Operation Dark Heart: Spycraft and Special Ops on the Frontlines of Afghanistan – and the Path to Victory, by Lt. Col. Anthony Shaffer

Last weekend Amy and I did something that was good for our marriage and good for our souls. We were having an early lunch together right after yoga class and I reminded her that I did not have any commitments that day or the next. Furthermore Aaron would be away at the church’s Jr-Sr. retreat so we had two days to ourselves. After a bit of exchanging comments like, “I don’t know, what do you want to do,” we decided to swing by the house, hastily pack a bag, and head up to the North Georgia mountains and spend the night in a cabin – all without making any kind of reservations. Not only did we find a delightful cabin, but we found a music venue in Dahlonega that had as their special guests a guitar duo we had heard on NPR this past fall (Storyhill, in case you are curious. You listen to their music on www.storyhill.com ).  

It was not a complicated weekend. The music venue was a small restaurant that seated maybe fifty people all to listen to two guys with two guitars sing into two microphones. The cabin was sparse, rustic, but cozy and warm overlooking a creek in the mountains. We did a bit of shopping, but spent very little money on the pottery, fudge, and beef jerky we brought home. We both agreed it was one of the best weekends we have enjoyed together in a long, long time.

It is amazing how often the simple things are also the best things. Yet just as often we tend to enslave ourselves with the burdens of complexity. In Ecclesiastes 7:29 we read: “This is all that I have learned: God made us plain and simple, but we have made ourselves very complicated.” (Good News Translation)

One of the most tangible ways we add to our burdens is through our possessions: we either want more or are laboring to protect what we have or are deprived and stand in need or want. Do you own your possessions or do your possession own you?

Simplicity has been on my mind lately, and not just because I am planning to preach on it this Sunday as one of our New Year’s resolutions to “Live More Simply.” According to Richard Foster, there are at least three ways Christians are to practice an inner attitude of simplicity: 1)to receive what we have as a gift from God; 2) to know that it is God’s business, and not ours, to care for what we have; and 3) to have our goods available to others. (Celebration of Discipline, pp. 88-89)

More and more I am noticing I have cluttered up my life, oftentimes with stuff – books, trinkets, gadgets, and toys. It is not that my stuff is bad, but that most of my stuff have become symbols of unnecessary burdens and distractions. Furthermore we need more space just to house our stuff – how crazy is that? No, I may not be liquidating and divesting all my things anytime soon, but I am looking more and more of what I need to do (or not do) so that I can live closer to the earth and closer to the ones I love without distractions and things getting in the way.

More important than anything else you or I do, however, is to heed the words of Jesus: “Seek first the kingdom of God…and all these things shall be yours as well.” (Matthew 6:33) May we seek together, and I am…

Simply yours,

Greg

Emerging out of a green tunnel of mountain laurel along the AT

Most every year, following Christmas Day, I try to take a few days and backpack up in the mountains of North Georgia or North Carolina. I admit that it is, weather-wise, somewhat of a gamble. In years past I have found myself trudging through snow and generally frozen to the bone. Other times I find those last days of the year unseasonably warm. This year was a bit normal I suppose. Along with a friend, I trudged through some light snowfall, a little rain, and through a lot of clouds. Still, a bad day in the mountains is a good day overall. On our last night of the hike was were forced to dine inside our tents while rain sputtered outside. The fear of bears looking for food in my sleeping bag was sublimated by my wanting to stay dry and reasonably warm. A rising sun (and no bears) greeted us the next morning and on New Year’s Eve I emerged from the mountains – a bit grimy and, shall we say, smelling a bit woodsy – and joined my wife as we heralded in the new year with dear friends.

A New Year…a clean slate…an opportunity to do something new…or start over again. On the one hand it is just another day on the calendar. Some of you may not have had any time off in the last week or so, and so the transitions means little. Yet the days are indeed getting longer, and like a blank canvas they stretch before us waiting our creative marks.

We mistakenly assume that Christmas marks the end of the holidays and soon thereafter it is get back to routines, back to work, back to the same old, same old. Most of us by now have already taken down all the directions and the boxes are back in the attic to keep silent vigil through the long months of winter, spring, summer and fall.

Christmastide – the season many Christians around the world are still observing – is about beginnings, not endings. Not only is it the beginning of the year for the Church, it is a new beginning for each life.

What will you do with this fresh start before you? How will you seek to live more deeply, be more mindful, love more authentically? Christ has come not just in history, but comes to each of us so that we may walk more closely with God and more lovingly with our neighbor.

There is more story to tell. The year before us awaits our footprints as we trek through 2012. May Christ accompany you on the journey, through whatever may come your way.

 Greg

There are plenty of places where I am completely out of my element: department stores, especially the cosmetic section; a golf course, any golf course; and watching an episode of “Glee” on television. I do not pretend to be adept in any and all environments. Barns, however, I know about. I was practically, much to the chagrin of my beloved wife and other refined folk, raised in a barn. The dairy barn of my childhood was unbearably hot in the summer, with the body heat of twenty cows mixed in with the stifling air perfumed with grain, dust, and goodness knows what else. In the wintertime it could be equally miserable. Often cold and wet, the only source of warmth was a small gas heater that thawed our wet hands in between milkings. On particularly bitter days the end of a cow’s tail could provide an uncomfortable swat if the dangling mud and manure was frozen. Nonetheless the barn was more or less home for a good portion of my childhood and it was in the barn that we shared stories, memories and passed along wisdom.

A stable is a more polite word for barn, but it is basically the same thing: housing for livestock. Even the cleanest of stables are nothing more than a barn filled with the sights, sounds and, yes, smells of animals.

Quite an amazing beginning for the birth of God, don’t you think? Over the centuries we have domesticated our stables and imagined them as quaint Italian villas along a hillside, forgetting or not really considering that it was just a barn. Perhaps we have overlooked the fact that stable is not actually mentioned in the birth narrative of Jesus – not once. All we have to go on is that Jesus was placed in a manger. In fact the Gospel of Luke mentions this three times, not wanting us to miss the point. Of course mangers were not in living rooms or inns, but in barns. When Luke tells us that God incarnate was placed in a manger, he reminds the reader, “because there was no room in the inn.” (2:7b)

God is not always where you think, because too, too often we do not have room either. We crowd God out with our own proclivities and biasness. Smug self-assurances masquerade our insecurities all the while not realizing God’s blessing is somewhere else. The Gospel gives us this simple little statement about there being no room in the inn and it became a symbol for Luke; a theme. Luke takes this one line, “There is no room in the inn,” and writes how this phrase was recurrent throughout Jesus’ ministry.

There was no room for Jesus in the economic world. Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” Luke 18:25

There was no room for Jesus in the legal and religious realm. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Luke 15:2

There was no room for Jesus in ordered society. So Pilate gave his verdict that their demand should be granted. Luke 23:24

Making room for the Holy is, I believe, a lifelong quest. We do not just emerge from the baptismal waters and say, “Well I have arrived!” Just when we think we have constructed an abode for the divine we realize our mangers are too small and God is on the move and the inn is never going to hold it all.  

We are also about the task of making room for others, which is not easy either. Like a crowded elevator that opens up for more passengers to squeeze in we wonder, is there room for one more?

If we are not careful we may squeeze others out, and like the caricature we hold of the crotchety old innkeeper, we snap, “no room!” I see those who cannot find room nearly every day. I walk by them, step over them and pretend to look the other way. I am not just talking about homeless. I am talking anyone who feels like they do not belong – the hopeless, the friendless, the seeker and searcher.

Our calling – I contend our very purpose – as those who have come to the stable and gathered round the manger is to make room for one more. It’s a crowded stable, but there is always room for one more in God’s Holy Gathering.

May your home, your barn, your manger always have room for others, and thanks be to the Lord, that Christ has made room for you and me.

 Greg

How have your “Holidays and Holy Days” gone so far? For me they officially started with the annual Jr.-Sr. Backpacking Trip (which has now been dubbed “Back to the Wild”). It was a great walk in the woods for a few days and the only incidents encountered were a few tents that leaked. Still, everyone in the group maintained a great attitude and I returned with the same number of campers I left with.

There was one casualty. On the first day of hiking my hands were starting to swell a bit, which is not unusual given the amount of sodium ingested in a typical meal around the campfire, and so I slid my wedding band off and put it in my pocket. Later that evening at Betty Creek Gap where we were setting up our tents for the night I reached in my pocket to retrieve the ring. You guessed it…gone. There is probably little need to elaborate further. Suffice it to say my wedding ring appears to be lost forever. This was the original ring Amy placed on my finger over 23 years ago and outside of occasional events like this hiking trip, I have never had the need to take it off, even briefly.

Amy was understanding, even sympathetic towards me. She knows how sentimental I am. I can replace the ring with another ring that will look like it, but it will not be the same ring. It is just a symbol, I know, but it is an important symbol of a promise that I am to keep until death. For years I could look down at my left hand and have this modest reminder of who I belong to. Now all I have left on my hand is a worn indention around my ring finger where the ring once rested. My wedding band, now gone, has still marked me for Amy.

All of life we are marked by other people, other events, and other seasons. This season of Advent is a time of holy marking, but sometimes even that gets “lost in the wilderness.” Here are a few suggestions towards marking Advent in your days and weeks leading up to Christmas and consecrate them over to God with thanksgiving.

• Embrace the Crowds – Instead of dreading shopping and fighting crowds and traffic, say a prayer of thanks that you are surrounded by so many for such a common cause. Each one is a reason for Jesus. Matthew 9:36 “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them…”
• Remember and Give Thanks Use your decorations as windows of memories and spend some time this month recalling a favorite recollection and say a prayer of thanks. Jacob did this with a rock that he called “Bethel.” (Gen 28)
• Enjoy your food. Ecclesiastes 3:13 “…moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.” There will be plenty of time to diet, in the meantime be grateful and mindful.
• Look for the Good News and Tell it! Of course there is bad news, but bad news is not the only news or the last news so celebrate the good news. Luke 2:10 “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”
• Laugh with Others and at Yourself There is a reason we greet one another with “Merry Christmas.” Laugh at the imperfections and remember that nobody has the perfect Christmas.

My wedding band is long gone and it will be replaced. In the meantime I have this marking that reminds me of the promises I made years ago where I said, I do. Well, I still do. Mark this season in such away that when the boxes are put back up in the attic, there is a lasting impression that will see you into the New Year.

Peace on earth and peace to you,