Day Eight – Standing on Holy Ground

Today I stood on holy ground. More about that later.

This morning I was once again on my way to the Sindhupolchok District. This time, however, two trucks loaded with food accompanied us. We were headed for the village of Jalbiri where one hundred and fifty families who had not yet received relief waited anxiously for their rice, lentils, salt, oil, soap and a few other items. The now familiar road, still strewn with the wreckage of hundreds of homes and ruptured by the quakes and aftershocks, reminded me of going on safari in Kenya.

Every time I’ve led a missions team to Kenya we’ve paused for a three day safari. And every single time the same thing happens. From the moment we touch down on the dirt airstrip and are greeted by our guides the cameras click nonstop on that first game drive. Every giraffe, zebra, wildebeest and warthog draws a joyful announcement of their sighting followed by a rush of picture taking. But by the third day of the safari the cameras are mostly quiet as people casually glance at what, a scant couple of days before, had caused gasps of awe and wonder.

Today, driving back north on the Sindhupolchok Road my camera sat quietly in my lap. I glanced at the tumble down villages but without the same sense of awe at what has happened here. Not because I care less. If anything I care more. But because you can only take so many pictures of the same thing. Besides, just like an African safari, pictures can never get close to what it’s like to experience the aftermath of a disaster firsthand.

But the camera did come out today. Yes, it did. We arrived ahead of the two trucks laden with food and supplies. It gave us time to have a quick lunch and meet with the local team that had identified the families that would be receiving aid from ServLIfe today. Aid you have so generously provided with your donations to disaster recovery. As we ate our lunch and reviewed the list it didn’t seem, quite frankly, that there were that many people around.

Then the trucks showed up.

Slowly at first and then building the group came together. Alone and in pairs or groups, the families gathered. Udaya Bhatta, Director of ServLife partner A.S. Nepal, took charge and saw that everyone understood the process by which the food and supplies would be handed out. Then he gestured to me as I stood behind the crowd taking pictures. So I stepped up as some of the team unloaded bags of rice into a pile while others packed oil, salt, lentils and soap into bags. Then it was time to call the roll and invite the chosen families to come forward to get these staples often taken for granted by those who aren’t living in the midst of a disaster zone.

As I handed 30kg bags of rice to each person (some so small I feared the bag of rice outweighed them) I couldn’t help but think of all the ServLife donors. Not only those who have given for disaster relief, but every single person who has given to ServLife since 1992. It is because of the support of donors that this ministry has such strong relationships in Nepal. Because of your faithfulness to God’s call to generosity we have partners who can quickly locate those in need and gather them to receive food at a time like this. Your understanding that all we have comes from God to be used according to His purposes has positioned ServLife for such a time as this.

You have made it possible for me to stand on a hillside above a shattered city surrounded by people who are thanking me for bringing them food. All the while knowing this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with being the family of God coming together to help the neediest among us in the name of Jesus.

And certain I will never be able to fully express my gratitude to God for you or commend you highly enough for what you have done…and continue to do.

And when the food was delivered and the grateful people carried off the last bags of rice…I went to stand on holy ground.

At first I thought I was just going to Lamosangu. Of all the towns I’ve seen, this one is by far the hardest hit. Every house, every business, every building in Lamosangu is lost. More than seventy people lost their lives in this little village. Those who’ve survived are gathered in what can only be described as a refugee camp. And just beyond the camp is a small cluster of tarped ruins where a pastor and his family live. And where a long tarp covered structure serves as their church.

And just beyond, lying in utter ruin is the former church building. Once three stories where hundreds of people gathered for worship and scores of children learned about Jesus, on April 25, 2015 this building came crashing down. When the back wall behind the worship team buckled outward the worship leaders had an opening to escape. When the first floor collapsed the children on the second floor suddenly had ground level exits and fled the building. But not everyone escaped.

Seventeen people who gathered for worship that day finished church in the presence of Jesus Himself set free from the bonds of this earth in mid-praise. The bodies of eight still rest beneath the remains of the church. Not because they couldn’t be reached. The pastor explained that in Nepal where the majority Hindu religion burns their dead it is very hard for Christians to get land for burial. So, at the request of their families, eight people were removed from the rubble. A funeral service was held and their bodies were returned to rest under the ground where the church once stood. As the pastor pointed to the spot only a few feet from where I was and told me this story I realized…

I was standing on holy ground.