At the Edge of the World: Reflections From the Nepal-Tibet Border 

The Nepalese people are hungry — and that hunger is not only for bread. This nation is ready for a great spiritual harvest, and the fruit it will bear is already becoming visible to those with eyes to see. With every obstacle thrown their way, their resilience will stand the test of time.

Others are already at work in this region — faithful, tireless servants of the Kingdom. Among them is Ruben Rai, along with fellow pastors who pour themselves out day after day spreading the Word of God across Nepal. They carry the work. They need the support.

Another Day Another Church

Our driver arrived to pick us up in a midsize van — seating for perhaps eight. We were eleven.

Through some miracle, there was room for all of us: eleven team members plus Brian, our host pastor; Simon, the interpreter; the driver; and two of his friends. Sixteen souls in a van built for eight. The math made no sense. Neither does most of what God does.

Turning around to see how we all fit was not an option — my arms were locked firmly against my roommate. We were the world’s most cheerful can of sardines.

The window seat was both a blessing and a curse. The view was glorious. The range of motion was not. Arms pinned like a T-Rex, the task of capturing the moment — on my own iPhone, then on everyone else’s device — became something between an act of service and a feat of endurance.

A City Veiled in Powder

As the van pressed through the streets of Kathmandu, the dust rose thick with the movement of every vehicle around us — a constant, swirling cloud of powdery haze that swallowed the city whole, my lungs ached.

The infrastructure was something of a mystery. Every road appeared to be one way — until a bus full of passengers came barreling toward you head-on. Logic gave way to instinct. Instinct gave way to prayer.

To add to the beautiful mayhem, hundreds of thousands of motorbikes wove through every gap, every corner, every impossible space. They did not wait for openings. They created them.

The Bravest Man on the Street

Stop signs were few. Traffic signals fewer still. And yet, amid the chaos, one figure stood his ground — a lone police officer, arms extended, attempting to bring order to the beautiful storm. The thought arrived quietly and without irony: what a dangerous occupation.

Many times the urge to scream rose up — and more than once, it was answered not with noise, but with closed eyes and a quiet prayer. Sometimes that is the only navigation available.

The Church

After a ride through the beautiful chaos of Kathmandu, the van finally delivered us to one of the churches. Up the steps, into the upper meeting room — and the air was thick with the warm smell of curry and the quiet hush of expectation.

The converts who gathered were eager — some of them having traveled for days on foot just to be present. That kind of hunger is not manufactured. It is given.

For over four hours, praise rose to the Lord. These beautiful people listened with deep attention — taking notes, receiving, growing — each one at their own pace, each one being drawn deeper into the mystery of a God who had found them in the most unlikely of places.

The Cost of the Cross in Nepal

Nepal is a country where 80% of the population is Hindu and most of the remainder Buddhist. To accept Christ as Savior in this context is not a private decision — it is a public rupture. It begins, most often, with being cast out by one’s own family. These precious, gentle people paid that price willingly.

Seeds Planted Before the Storm

None of us knew then what was coming. In April 2015, a 7.9 magnitude earthquake would tear through Nepal, and these same people — these same gentle, steadfast souls — would be among those who had to endure it. What was spoken in that upper room was not wasted. It became, in ways no one planned, a small part of what held them together.

A Road Shared With All Creation

The streets of Kathmandu belong to everyone — and everything. Stray dogs wandered with quiet authority. Chickens darted between wheels and feet. And moving through it all, unhurried and untouchable, the cows — sacred in the Hindu tradition, treated as demi-gods, owning the road with a serenity no human driver could match.

The Mountains That Watch

And above it all, surrounding the valley on every side, the Himalayas. Ominous. Silent. Ancient. For a group of wide-eyed Americans, there were no adequate words — only the instinct to stop, look up, and feel very small in this part of the world.

The day ended quietly. Back at the hotel, we returned to the small comfort of our rooms. A cup of soup. Four walls. The stomach still negotiating a peace treaty with the native flavors. Sometimes the holiest response to an overwhelming day is simply to rest.

Tibet Border

Two jeeps were needed to transport our group on a five-hour journey to the Tibet border for a three-day excursion into the Himalayan Mountains, where we would minister to more than 25 pastors and their families. We paid drivers to take us up one way and trusted God that vehicles and drivers would be available for the return — no Hertz reservations, just faith.

Our driver spoke no English, and though he was a seasoned coachman, he thought nothing of passing buses on dangerous curves — buses packed with passengers, goats, and chickens, every inch of space used, including the roof-mounted luggage racks carrying additional travelers. Along the way, we passed countless natural waterfalls, rushing rivers, and clusters of homes built just feet from the main road.

Zero Star Hotel

Brian, our host pastor, had informed us that we would be staying in a Zero Star Hotel. My first thought: kind of like camping? Once we arrived and settled in, Brian was proven right — no towels, no toilet paper, a bucket-flush latrine, windows without screens, and — best of all — a padlock on the outside of our door. We were also provided one pair of communal flip-flops to share, a concession to the perpetually wet bathroom floors. As night fell, the temperature dropped sharply; we slept in turtlenecks and pulled our heavy coats over us as extra blankets.

The Bhotekoshi River, which had been a steady companion by day, shifted its tune after dark — sounding more like air conditioner in desperate need of repair. But the morning more than made up for it. Perfectly pitched birdsong, accompanied by what can only be described as nature’s own guitars, serenaded us with melodies that belong on no streaming service — only on God’s playlist.

Joanne, our director, informed us that we would be treating the pastors and their families to every meal. When I asked what that would cost, the answer came without hesitation: “Don’t worry about it — God will provide.” We took up an offering among our own group and covered every meal. It would not be the last lesson in humility on this journey.

A Detour and a Lesson

Before our meetings, my roommate Alida and I decided to take in the scenery. For a small stipend, we visited the Tatopani Hot Springs — walking along the roaring Bhotekoshi River, snapping photos, and losing ourselves in a paradise that awakened nearly every sense. Meanwhile, back at the Zero Star Hotel, the rest of the team was in prayer, preparing for the meetings ahead.

As Alida and I made our way back, I cracked the door open to find the entire group staring at us — wide-eyed and waiting for an explanation. Conviction set in immediately. I apologized for letting worldly distractions pull me away, a stern reprimand followed, and I quietly ordered myself a larger slice of humble pie for lunch.

Unlikely Friendships, Lasting Bonds

It was here that I met people who would become lifelong friends: our interpreter Bigyang, and Pastor Indra and his wife Jyoti Shrestha. Pastor Indra and Jyoti oversee an orphanage in the region and shepherd a local church as well. Bigyang is a pastor who travels village to village carrying the Good News to some of the most remote communities imaginable — and remote is an understatement. On foot, with minimal provisions, he and his team traverse this majestic mountain range with the faithfulness of a postman: rain or shine, they deliver.

Sessions of Grace and a Painful Return

The sessions were powerful — encouragement and faith poured forth in abundance, with each person receiving prayer. These were precious people who wanted us to stay longer. We promised to return soon.

Many living near the Tibet border lost loved ones in the devastating 7.9 earthquake of April 2015. Entire villages were destroyed by boulders and mudslides — and what the great tremor did not annihilate, the Bhotekoshi River returned to finish this past summer. Some of these people have no means to relocate to Kathmandu and continue to bear the consequences of life in a paradoxical paradise.

Among those displaced: Pastor Indra and Jyoti lost both their home and their orphanage, and were forced to move to Kathmandu, where they are still working to rebuild a semblance of normal life.

The road we once traveled is now nearly impassable. It is on foot that these faithful pastors make their way up into the mountains — because God’s work does not wait. The river claimed most of their electrical infrastructure, and generators are now essential for survival. If this stirs something in your heart and you would like to donate, please reach out directly.

These words are written with deep pain for our Christian family in Nepal. The devastation left by the glacial floods and landslides of August 26th is beyond words — the official death toll has climbed to 919, and nearly 4,800 people remain missing. Aid workers have reported that entire settlements were “wiped out.” The scale of suffering defies easy description, and the road to recovery rests ultimately in the hands of a merciful God.

The Catholic Church in Nepal — a small minority of about 10,000 faithful — is committed to aiding all those affected by this disaster. Through prayer and generous support, God will open a path forward for these souls who have given their lives to serving and proclaiming His Word.

As rescue operations continue amid the risk of additional landslides and flooding, aid workers are already flagging a second looming emergency: winter. Displaced families sheltering in high-altitude areas will require thermal gear and winter-proof shelter within weeks.

The need is urgent. The time to act is now. Let us respond as members of one Body in Christ — with our prayers, our resources, and our solidarity — so that our brothers and sisters in Nepal may know they are not forgotten.

I write these words with great pain in my heart for my Christian family in Nepal. The aid that is needed is beyond explanation, with the landslide on August 26th many lives were lost and the recovery is in the hands of God. With our prayers and support God will clear a path for these poor souls to continue their journey serving and spreading the Word of God.

A Visit to the Slum Church

Getting there required leaving the road entirely. No pavement. No signs. Just dust, determination, and the sense that something worth finding was waiting at the end of the trail.

A Community Held Together by Stones and Tires

More than 1,000 families call this place home. The most polluted river in the region winds around their dwellings like a slow, indifferent boundary. Rooftops of corrugated metal are pinned down by large rocks and discarded tires — nothing engineered, everything improvised. No preparation could have prepared my eyes for poverty like this. And the dust, thicker here than anywhere else because the roads are entirely unpaved, left me quietly wondering what monsoon season must do to what little these families have.

The Slum Church — that is its real name, worn without apology — stands in the middle of it all, and it is immaculate. Laminate flooring. Ceiling fans turning slowly overhead. A space that says: this house belongs to God, and God deserves our best.

Fourteen Voices, One Thunder

Then the choir began. Fourteen voices. And when the opening notes of How Great Thou Art rose — in Nepali, from lungs that know what it costs to praise — something broke open in the room. Tears came without warning, and no one moved to stop them. These were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition — the soul acknowledging that it was standing on holy ground.

The Poorest Rich People in the World

These people have little to nothing by the world’s measure. And yet they are among the most authentic examples of what it means to bear the name Christian — humble, Spirit-filled, anointed, and radiant with a joy the world did not give them and cannot take away.

Before leaving, a suitcase full of medicine was placed in their hands. A small thing, But love always finds a way to be tangible.

The President

An Unexpected Summons

Eighteen in a Van — Again

Brian, our host pastor, received an invitation from the President of Nepal. And so, naturally, there were now eighteen of us in the van. Some things about this journey defied explanation from the beginning — and the seating arrangements were never going to be one of them.

Traffic held us up for nearly two hours. By the time the van pressed through to the Palace, word had come: the President had been called into an emergency meeting. The appointment would have to wait — and so our group waited, as pilgrims often do, without certainty about what comes next.

A Palace of Quiet Dignity

The Palace was heavily guarded and modest in scale — not the grandeur one might expect from a seat of government. But the garden surrounding it was another matter entirely. Neat rows of flowers stood in careful formation, as if welcoming every visitor with silent ceremony.

A Garden That Spoke Without Words

The festoon of blooms filled the autumn air with something close to sacred — orange, magenta, and gold rising together in colors that seemed almost intentional, perfectly matched to the Palace walls, as though the earth itself had dressed for the occasion.

Welcomed by the Secretary

Our group was received by Naraine Koivola, Secretary to the President and Administrator of Foreign Affairs — a man whose warmth made the formality of the setting feel immediately secondary. He escorted everyone upstairs to a private meeting room on the second floor.

The room itself was a quiet wonder. Above the gathering, bright, vibrant orange flowers adorned the ceiling alongside what appeared to be real gold — an understated elegance that spoke of a culture unafraid to make beauty part of its official life.

Tea, Cookies, and an Hour Well Spent

Nepali tea arrived, along with delicate cookies, and what followed was not a meeting so much as a conversation. For over an hour, stories flowed between our group and this kind gentleman — an exchange that no agenda could have planned and no protocol could have produced.

Before leaving, a prayer was offered — and with it, a box of See’s Candy for the President. A small, sweet gesture from one world to another, carried across the distance with the simplicity that only genuine affection can manage.

The Day Was Not Finished

The van pulled away and the day pressed on — because on a journey like this, divine appointments do not arrive one at a time. They line up. They wait their turn. And they do not run out.

From Palace to Precinct

From the Palace to the office of the Chief of Police — and the spirit of the day carried right through the threshold. Rabindra Pratap Shah received our group with equal cordiality, a man of authority whose manner carried none of its weight against hospitality.

Called Away, Yet Still Present

As with the President before him, duty intervened. Chief Shah was summoned into a meeting before the visit could unfold fully. And yet, before excusing himself, he paused — and graciously received prayer from the team. In that small moment, something larger was happening than any scheduled appointment could have held.

God showed great favor that day. Not in the meetings that were completed, but in the doors that opened at all — in the secretaries who escorted, the officials who paused, the prayers offered in rooms built for policy and power. Grace had moved through every threshold.

The Quiet Ride Home

On the ride back to the hotel, no one needed to say much. The encounters were held quietly, close to the chest, each person turning them over in their own way. And the glory — without fanfare, without ceremony — was given back to the One who had arranged every detail of the day.

Next week’s blog will be about the visit to the Tibet Border. Please continue to pray for Nepal’s recovery and cleanup efforts.

The Missionary Trip of a Lifetime: The Nepal/Tibet Border

When God calls, He is specific.

The team was already on another missionary journey when Joanne, the ministry leader, received a dream — massive mountains, and people wearing unusual hats unlike anything she had ever seen. She brought it to God in prayer, not yet knowing what it meant. Months later, the first invitation to minister in Nepal arrived.

When Joanne reached the Tibetan border and saw those native hats for the first time, she knew. This was exactly what God had shown her. The dream was not imagination — it was preparation.

The Airport

Stepping off the plane, the first thing that struck the group was the sheer energy of Kathmandu’s airport. Smaller than most international hubs, it buzzed with an intensity that was both fascinating and overwhelming — especially for first-time visitors to this part of the world. Crowds pressed in from every direction, and the noise and motion sent the senses spinning.

A quick warning was issued: keep a close eye on your luggage and do not allow strangers to handle your bags — theft was a genuine concern. Sure enough, as the luggage was being transported, several pieces tumbled free, and everyone rushed forward to gather them up. It was controlled chaos, but the group managed.

Then came the host, Brian William. How he managed to secure every last suitcase on top of the van — in the middle of all that commotion — was nothing short of a miracle.

The Hotel

The drive to the hotel was unlike anything the group had ever witnessed. The city hummed with relentless energy: motorbikes weaving through traffic with as many as four passengers balanced on a single seat, no traffic signals in sight — only the beautiful, organized chaos that seemed to be Kathmandu’s natural rhythm. For the Americans in the group, it was like stepping into another dimension entirely. After several hours, the hotel finally came into view.

It was gated. And the moment it did, one word came to mind: Shangri-La.

Set apart from the noise of the city, the grounds were immaculately maintained — a genuine sanctuary. Flowers burst with deep, brilliant hues, yellow and orange being the dominant color, as though creation itself had been especially generous here. Hand-carved pillars framed the entrance and surrounded the front desk, each one a quiet testament to the artistry of the Nepali people.

The team slept in a dormitory-style setting. Five women shared one room, each with her own bed.

The four men traveled similarly. Group leader Joanne shared a private room with Linda, her assistant.

The Schedule

Everyone knew what they had signed up for — and every day was going to be a demanding day of ministry. This is a Catholic lay group ministering to Protestants in a land that is 80% Hindu. The work was cut out for us from  the start.

Pastor Brian and Ruth

Some people talk about serving. Pastor Brian and his wife Ruth simply do it — quietly, faithfully, and at great personal cost.

Their ministry focuses on rescuing young girls from the darkness of sex trafficking and restoring them to safety, dignity, and the love of Christ. Once rescued, these young women are not simply sheltered — they are equipped. They learn candle making, sewing, and computer skills: practical trades that give them independence and a future. Alongside this, Pastor Brian and Ruth operate a slum school in Kathmandu, reaching children who would otherwise be left behind.

No words are sufficient to describe what this couple has given. They have laid their lives down — and they have done it without fanfare.

The First Meeting

The first meeting drew more than fifty pastors — yes, fifty — who had traveled from all across Nepal to hear the Word of God. They arrived dressed in their Sunday best, a quiet and moving display of reverence and hunger for truth. Some had walked for miles.

Meeting those pastors was a joy. They came from many different regions, each one a shepherd faithfully tending his flock in one of the most challenging mission fields in the world.

The Medicine

The night before that first meeting, the whole group gathered in Joanne’s room to sort through medicines. For months leading up to the trip, each person had been collecting pharmaceuticals for this very outreach. Joanne had taken up a special collection to purchase more than one hundred red duffel bags, each to be filled with medicine and supplies.

Every pastor received one of those small red bags, filled with the basics — cough syrup, aspirin, Pepto-Bismol, skin ointments, and allergy medications. Simple supplies by any Western standard, but invaluable to men serving in remote areas with little access to medical care. Every team member had carried an extra suitcase designated for this purpose alone. Those fifty pastors would be the first to receive them.

Day Two

On this particular day, the team gathered for worship and praise, followed by preaching. The message was direct and convicting: focus on your calling, and remain a humble servant.

What followed is difficult to put into words. Each person present received prayer and a prophetic word. Watching it unfold was breathtaking. These pastors carried something unmistakable — an unrestrained faithfulness, a fire of the Holy Spirit that no hardship had been able to extinguish.

The prayer that rose up in that moment was simple: Lord, give me that same fire.

Humility and the Holy Spirit are not opposites. In these pastors, they were one and the same.

A Full Schedule and a Missing Wallet

Ministry days in Nepal leave little room for rest.

The schedule was packed — meetings at different churches, long drives to reach new pastors, and the privilege of ministering to congregations hungry for the Word. Breakfast that morning had been a bowl of mixed grains with yak milk, a simple and nourishing start before heading out for what would be nearly an hour’s drive.

It was during the offering at one of the churches that the discovery was made — the wallet was gone.

In a quiet panic, Brian escorted the search back to the hotel. There was good reason to believe it had been there at breakfast — a tip had been left on the table, which meant the wallet was in hand just hours before. But it was nowhere to be found.

Up to the room, through every corner — nothing. A quick prayer, then the locked suitcase was opened — nothing. Under the beds, in the bathroom, back through the luggage again — nothing.

Then came one more search. This time slower, more deliberate.

There, in the middle of the makeup bag, was the wallet.

There is no natural explanation for it. The bag had already been searched. Even Brian was stunned. The only reasonable conclusion is that an angel had tucked it away for safekeeping — hidden in plain sight until the panic had passed and the prayer had been prayed.

God is in the details. Even the small ones.

We continued our ministry work in Kathmandu — visiting several churches, including the Slum Church, before making the trek to the Nepal/Tibet border. Sharing these memories is a powerful reminder of the resilience of the Nepali people. Next week’s blog will include the stories mentioned above.

My Prayer

Lord, You know the hardships of these humble people. With the little they have, they press on. So many have lost family, friends, and property. Dear Jesus, comfort them in their time of need and restore this beautiful country. Amen.