I flipped through my journal the other day. There's a clear line where my entries are all buisness and then become something more. The netries become a tad longer. The poetry becomes more real. It's as if God himself opened me up and said, "Behold, my creation."
There's also a a point in the trip where my soul came a live. Where I stopped being Andrew Smith from America who lives in Colorado but is a native of California come to visit and help out. Jaymasi! I just became Andrew. Andrew Paul. Bal Bahadar. Jetta. Andrew Uncle. Andrew Sir. Andrewson. Andree. There came a point where who I was and what I was doing was of no consequnce. The only thing that mattere was that I was here. I was living life in this broken country alongside family. Family I had never met, but family just the same.
I recall prayer and journal entries from past trips asking, praying, hoping that the momentim would last. That I wouldn't lose sight of all that took place. All that I did. All that was done to me.
Maybe this is that journal entry.
This is the point where I beg God to stay close. To not leave. To keep providing. To keep wotking.
I am not done yet!!!
Looking back, the seeming disappeance of God was becasue I lost sight. I found new friends. I found ways to provide for myself. I have this, this looming suspision that my old nature might resurface. That the man I have become will give way to the boy I once was.
O Lord, let it no be the case.
The fear of returning to the West is gone. Friends and family will just have to deal with my newfound peculiarities. I don't know much Nepali, but what I do know will probably come out from time to time. Thik cha. I might take all of my meals on the floor. I might request foriegn films from the library. Not because I will understand them, but because I won't.
One of the biggest lessons I have learned is that the Kingdom of Heaven supercedes all politcal, cultural, and ethic boundries. I maybe an American and you might be Chapng, but we are still family. As the kingdom has no borders, so too the King as no end to his jurisdiction.
Nepal and the U.S. are complete oppisites in all ways that countries can be. It's both beautiful and tragic all at the same time. Words fail to describe all that I have experienced. But one thing has made itself painfully clear.
That the red letters in my Bible were not meant just for those in the West. Or the wealthy in the East. That these words penetrate into all that is wrong in the world and sets them right. That they stare the institutions that hold people captive and tell them they have no power.
They are words to build a life on.
They are beautiful life giving words.
They are the words of King whose Kingdom has no end.
Long Live the King!