“I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.”
Isaiah 14:14
What a thrill it is to be in an airplane when the view is a surreal landscape of fluffy white infused with the peach glow of the rising sun. As the darkness of a long night yields to the brilliance of morning, it is an image of the Most High, the light of Jesus in a dark world, and the hope of the Holy Spirit. It is a precious moment of communion.
The SEAPC medical team recently flew back from Nepal, a small nation with people groups of languages and customs as diverse as the topography of valleys and soaring mountains. It is the home of Mr. Everest, perhaps the most iconic image for trekkers and photographers alike. The challenge and the beauty are found as the craggy, snow-capped peak rises 29,000 feet into the sky, far beyond any other mountain above sea level.
But the team had no illusions about climbing—or even seeing—Mt. Everest. The real goal, to introduce hearts and minds to Jesus Christ, would be through medical clinics in rural churches high in the Himalayas. The real mountain to be climbed would be over lifetimes of false doctrine. Ultimately, it meant trusting in God to take us where He wanted us to go.
Prayer walking in Kathmandu put the team deep into the fight against principalities and powers for two days. But once the valley had been left behind, God made it clear that His plan for medical care would move forward. Traveling on rutted roads, setting up clinics in small churches nestled into the mountains, and praying for each individual kept both medical personnel and prayer warriors busy for several days. The hands of Jesus pumped up blood pressure cuffs. The eyes of Jesus peered through the otoscope. The feet of Jesus rode a motorbike to find needed medicines. The touch of Jesus accompanied healing prayer. Good ministry. Seeking people. Gifts used.
The final stop, however, became the greatest challenge and the deepest blessing for the entire team. Crammed into the open bed of an ancient four-wheel drive truck with groaning gears, the ascent began up a muddy, deeply rutted, narrow track that snaked its way up the side of the mountain. The hairpin turns led to fording a swift river and elevations enrobed in the fog of clouds until the road ended at nowhere. It took an additional two and one-half hour trek 800 meters straight down—and later up—to reach a small church.
The mud plastered walls, packed dirt floor, and pulpit made of two small branches and a board, completed the interior. Upturned baskets became tables for supplies. Everyone sat on the floor. There were no bathrooms. One of the men cut down three pieces of bamboo, triangulated them around a hole he dug, and covered it with a tarp. Facilities prepared.
The handful waiting for us swelled into a sea of children, women, and men. These were the Chepang people, the lowest of the low in Nepali society. Dirt-encrusted faces, torn, soiled clothing, and a variety of infections, diarrhea, and skin conditions spoke volumes about lifestyle.
But most disturbing was the bleakness in their faces. The usual banter and chatter of a clinic setting, the curiosity about visitors, and the excitement of being treated with dignity and respect, were absent. Most of them had never seen a Western face before. Children were silent. Adults did not make eye contact. The very fiber of this group screamed subservience, poverty, hopelessness.
Outside the church, a million-dollar view. A deep valley, green and dotted with trees. The pastor’s house, where he and his wife sleep on a board with their prize possession, a pig, beneath them. And all of it covered with a gauzy layer of mist. Standing there, above the clouds, did not make anyone into the Most High. But it gave an appreciation of His vantage point on humanity. And of the awesome responsibility of medical ministry.
Being the hands and feet of Jesus isn’t just about what gets done. It’s about how it’s done. In the midst of chaos, unfamiliar food and surroundings, and no back up, medical professionals who follow Christ must remain connected to Him. Daily—sometimes minute-by-minute—prayer and devotions are essential. Type A personalities must yield to the leading of the Holy Spirit, whether things are going well or not. And faith is a constant need as seemingly insurmountable situations and maladies are presented.
It’s easy to become frustrated. We brought all the wrong medicines. The right ones aren’t available. There’s no place to wash hands. No lab tests, X-rays, CT scans, dentists, ophthalmologists, or waiting surgeon. Conditions like snakebite are unfamiliar, tuberculosis is contagious, and flesh eating bacteria? Yikes.
At times we are Peter, striding across the water to meet Jesus on the Sea of Galilee with total confidence. Until we look down and begin to drown in our own sea of unworthiness and incapability. Those moments, thanks to grace, usually assault different people at different times, giving us the ability to support one another. And the advice of the ages is as fresh and relevant as it has always been: …fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and protector of our faith (Hebrews 12:2).
At least once, that moment of absolute amazement comes. The eighteen-year-old with a heart arrhythmia hugs you and thanks Jesus that it was found early. The thirteen-day-old baby’s father praises God that his son’s rash is nothing serious. The one-hundred-year old Hindu woman accepts Christian prayer. And on and on, as a gentle touch, a tender word, and supernatural healing carry the served and the servers above the clouds into the realm of God revealed.
As the adventure and the excitement of front-line service morphs into routine life at home, there is a danger of framing God’s grace as a function of missions alone. In those moments, the Holy Spirit whispers of the universality of His presence. And we are reminded that whether we are at the top of the Himalayas or in the checkout line at Aldi, He is there. He prepares us. He uses us.
Whether we trod the mission field at home or abroad, we are both a blessing and blessed as He lifts us above the clouds into His presence.
