New in Nepal

Only fear the Lord and serve Him in truth with all your heart; for consider what great things He has done for you.  

1 Samuel 12:24

The scent of Asia permeates the cool air outside the Kathmandu airport. We are back, embraced by the familiar sights, sounds, and even a few faces who greet us with colorful scarves. It’s good to return. For six of us, who have had multiple mission trips to Nepal, it’s almost like coming home.

For the seventh member of the team, nothing is recognizable. Janice, Nurse Practitioner, is on her first Christian medical mission. Her blond hair is tousled after multiple hours of travel. The purple suitcase at her side is enormous. And her stomach is growling, either from airline food or hunger.

As our friend Man Dai drapes a scarf around her neck, tears spring to her eyes. “This is amazing,” she whispers. And we haven’t even left the airport.

On her first walk through the tourist market in Kathmandu, she passes butcher shops with hunks of water buffalo for sale, including tongues. They are bloody displays out in the open as people dressed in bright clothing jostle to get food for their next meal. There are few refrigerators; food shopping is on a meal-to-meal basis. Jan is fascinated, taking pictures and exclaiming over each new sight.

As we prayer walk through the Hindu temple complex of Pashupati, bodies are being burned, bones are being pushed into the Bagmati River, which flows into the Ganges, and painted holy men glower at us. A sense of evil is palpable.

It is Janice’s first prayer walk. “My chest feels heavy. It’s like I can’t breathe.”

She experiences the evil as I do. It’s real. We walk side-by-side and pray our way through it. Later we face the idol Kali, Hindu goddess of death, and go to other similar sites. We talk about the armor of God and the sadness of lost souls. Janice is disturbed and wants to reach out to everyone. Her heart isn’t merely soft; it’s mush.

The following day is more travel, several hours over twisting mountain roads to the small town of Damauli. The hotel that has been booked for the team has no hot water, and the linens are of questionable cleanliness. Janice doesn’t complain. Not once. She is a trooper, already a member of the team, her sights set on the One we are here to serve, not on creature comforts.

The first day of the clinic is, as usual, bedlam. Patients push in the doors, surrounding practitioners until the noise level makes it hard to hear heartbeats with a stethoscope. Janice keeps seeing patients while the crowd is brought under some kind of control. She stops a time or two to clarify with other practitioners but is otherwise independent. Seventy-four patients are seen and receive prayer. Over dinner, we discuss the day. Janice is astounded at how much is being accomplished. And at the important role of prayer that eclipses medicine. Her excitement is palpable.

Then comes the second clinic. We travel to an impoverished, very rural village. A grandmother weaves a basket with a toddler at her feet playing with the reeds. Chickens scatter as we walk. Little ones squat in the dirt without the benefit of diapers. This day is more organized. Patients are seen, meds are prescribed, prayer is given.

A woman with multiple miscarriages comes to me. I take care of her gastric problems and order medicine. But I am led to pray for her. It will slow down the clinic, but God insists that it’s important. I lay hands on her abdomen and begin to pray for her womb, her sadness, her faith.

Her moans turn to wails. She falls back in her chair, motionless. Soon she is retching violently before collapsing on the floor, flailing, kicking, and screaming. Janice finishes a patient and joins me, praying out loud. Others surround us, praying in tongues as the woman shrieks in Nepali. A translator tells us that she is repeating, “Why are you taking me out of this place? I don’t want to come.”

After many minutes the woman shudders. “Halleluiah.” She sits up, has a sip of water, and rests in my arms for many more minutes.

Janice’s eyes are wide, her hair disheveled. “What was that?”

We talk about a demon leaving the woman. Out loud, it sounds strange. The reality is undeniable. Janice does not doubt what she just witnessed. And it happens nine more times during this day; one woman has three demons cast out.

Debriefing includes the indisputable fact that we have planned this trip well. But God has guided our steps according to His perfect will. The entire team embraces the day’s experiences. Our faith is strengthened.

In all, we complete five medical outreaches and preach in three different churches. Four hundred eighteen people receive care and prayer. Some of those have joint injections to relieve pain. One young woman has a growth removed from her cheek by Janice in the midst of our pop-up clinic setting of a bench, local anesthetic, and a scalpel.

We have many, many hours on the journey home to discuss what has transpired. Janice identifies highlights. They are interesting. Relationship. Laughter. Heartbreak. Medicine. Miracles. Faith. She is hooked, ready to sign on for the next medical mission depending on work schedule and family needs. It’s a no-brainer, really. She has now been called to serve. Her DNA has become His.

God knew what the people of Nepal needed. He sent us to provide it. But He also knew what the team needed, what Janice needed to learn in her first experience. And He provided that as well.

We each heard God’s voice. We felt the presence of the Holy Spirit. We grew in faith. We bonded in relationship with one another and with our Nepali friends. And we are inspired to return, to pray, and to believe.

Next time Janice will no longer be a newbie. In her regular work with the homeless, she will apply what she learned halfway around the world to the least and the lost in her hometown. She credits the Holy Spirit with helping her to become the person she has always wanted to be.

Praise God for His wisdom. His guidance. And His love for every soul in the world. Including the souls of the SEAPC medical team.