It stunned me for a moment. I wish I could have said I was there for a useful-sounding purpose- to teach the children, to help out in the factory employing destitute women or to avail myself for service. But I couldn’t- for I am here for too short a time (that’s all my school break allows for). The missionaries invited me over simply to visit the children, see the new building the children would finally shift into from the funds raised, and simply, to have my own retreat and personal time with God.
I felt a great sense of peace that God had led me back to this place. He revealed much to me about my own pride- that it is entirely by His grace and not my capability, that I got to be involved with this ministry, that I am merely a tiny, tiny jigsaw piece in His great plan.
Since a month ago, I felt God teaching me deep lessons about the biblical analogy of Him being our Potter, and us, Clay. This time, He brought me to a potter near the outskirts of Nepal who is teaching me the craft, and I am struck by epiphanies as I learn, for myself, this ancient and profoundly spiritual art which is used time and again in the bible to illustrate the relationship between God and us.
Yet in the middle of the night one night as I lay awake shivering from the cold, facing difficulty adjusting to life here again, I couldn’t help but ask myself too- why am I here?
I was still adjusting to the biting cold, the thick clouds of black dust which slapped into one’s face in juicy whorls whenever one stepped out of the house, the dusty, rocky roads everywhere, the sudden blackouts in the dark evenings, and having to use candles instead of light to read. Electricity comes on at odd times, sometimes only from midnight till 8am, at a time you don’t need it, and you can only bathe in the afternoons when the water is heated up by the sun, unless you don’t mind freezing in winter.
One never quite gets used to the trash and black choking smoke everywhere. It is so polluted here even a short walk outside leaves you feeling drained. Impossible it is to return home without smelling like soot-even the Nepali people are falling ill from the pollution of the city. No one will tell you taking public transport isn’t a nightmare- it involves shoving, bumping, shouting and squeezing into a tin can of a bus, and unpredictability. A ride often ends up being interminably long (think a half-hour ride stretched into hours) because of a wedding procession or some crowd-attracting mishap. People usually walk- a place “very, very nearby” isn’t five minutes away but a good half-hour. It is a hard, rocky land, the air is thin due to the altitude. Its citizens are a hardy people.
Yet, at the end of a long, dusty day, one is grateful for this time spent here with the missionaries, who come from well-to-do families and developed cities but have chosen to spend the last decade in this difficult land to make a difference to the lives of underprivileged children and people in need.
“It gets into you sometimes. Even after ten years,” said the missionary to me yesterday, when the light went out suddenly over a simple home-cooked meal and we were smothered in pitch black darkness.
Then all at once I remembered why I was here in the first place, why it was that the missionaries welcomed me back with open arms- “just for a visit”, why it was I was so eager to come. For even just being here, living with them, watching them work, eat, live was a huge encouragement and education in itself, preparing me for this life ahead should God continue to call me into this future. It scares and comforts me all at once- to see how challenging yet possible this is.
One thinks the call will eventually be so great someday that one will be willing to count all things loss to do this sort of work. To a certain extent, I suppose it is true. Yet, aren’t we all human- vulnerable and frail, and the realities of living in a hard land can be unimaginably challenging. No way could one ever go for a morning jog, a swim, or a leisurely cycle in this place. No way could one ever enjoy the beach (there isn’t one), or easily obtain the foods one is used to. Because of the terrain and pollution, running an errand a day becomes an ordeal in itself.
“ When I see the children and the people here, I feel very, very blessed,” the missionary I am staying with said. “ It is not easy, but God gives us strength. And it is also good that you get out of your comfort zone, Wai Jia- don’t limit what God can do through you because of your city desires for comfort, cleanliness or convenience.”
It made me see things in a different way. I realize the new dimension this adds to my life back home in Singapore. Physical training becomes purposeful- I find pushing oneself within healthy limits incredible training for one’s discipline, fitness and threshold for discomfort. One missionary doctor told me, “Live your life now the way you think God will call you to live when you get to the mission field.”
It is challenging, impossible maybe, but it certainly adds a different light to all we do, every day.
So I remembered the days I was fed up with living comfortably back home, when I would feel sick with surfeit… and then all at once (though I really really missed my bike and wished I were cycling on the beach) became happy and contented again to be here in this land, if only for a while, to have the privilege of seeing, living, learning.
Then, shivering still, I fell asleep.
People living next to the missionary's home where I'm staying at
“I would rather die now than to live a life of oblivious ease in so sick a world.”
- Nate Saint, 1923-56, Ecuador
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