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.

Recently, the time came to say goodbye to beautiful Prudie.

Prudie

The first meeting came while Sonja and Russ were on their honeymoon — someone had to feed their cats, and somehow that someone was me. Prudence introduced herself with a slap to the face. When picked up for a cuddle, she immediately lined up round two. This cat had been rescued from the alleys of Costa Mesa and came with the attitude to prove it. Having to fend for herself left marks — not just on her, but apparently on anyone who got too close too soon.

The Bully

Since Sonja and Russ’s cat Cleopatra was getting beaten up every day — poor Cleo — Prudie would stand guard near the feeding bowl, and whenever Cleopatra came near, she would get pounced on. So guess who came to the rescue? Yours truly.

Maxine and Mookie

This was already a big undertaking — two cats were already in residence: Maxine Mew and Mookie Mariano. They were civil with each other but never really interacted like family.

Mookie loved me so much that on a regular basis he would shower me with gifts. These gifts ranged from hummingbirds to rats, and one time he brought me a live rabbit. Mookie loved the outdoors, and for that reason the bathroom window was kept open so that when he cried to come in, I’d open the screen to let him in. This is when he lavished his gifts. How kind of him.

Maxine, on the other hand, was a needy cat — always looking for affection. Her purr could be heard from across the room. Strictly an indoor girl, she loved to sit on your lap and knead your chest.

The Adjustment

When the bully Prudie came into the picture, she quickly decided she would straighten everyone out. But petite, chubby Maxine held her ground, fought back, and put Prudie in her rightful place. Mookie, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with an arrogant, puffed-up cat. He ran away. For days there were prayers for his return, his favorite food left out on the front porch as an offering.

After a hiatus of more than a month, Mike was watering the backyard when guess who made an appearance — Mookie Mariano came home. But he came back on his own terms. The girl cats respected his every move.

Last One Standing

Mike, who never wanted cats, was now the owner of three — and there was also a dog, Shadrach, to round out the household. As time passed, Mookie went on to a better place, followed by Maxine. Shadrach got along with Prudie well enough and managed to share part of the yard. When the time came to say goodbye to Shadrach, Prudie owned the house and property outright.

The Grandchildren

One of the biggest fears among the grandchildren was encountering Prudie lurking near the steps. She was vicious and showed no mercy. Going upstairs meant risking an imminent attack — and none were spared. So whenever the grandchildren came to visit, the first question was always, “Where’s Prudie?” As they got older, they welcomed the challenge and would go looking for her under the bed. Prudie never disappointed — she came out nails extended, ready to wound whoever dared approach. She was so sweet!

The Christmas Surprise

When it came time to put up the Christmas decorations, Prudie always found her spot — on the Nativity. She was well aware that cats are never mentioned in the Bible, and she was determined to correct that oversight. So, in her oversized body, she laid herself down in the manger.

This became a recurring tradition, and for the last several years of her life, she stood guard over the Holy Family.

The Decline

It started this year. Prudie was well into her twentieth year — a remarkable age for any cat. Her once beautifully groomed coat had gone matted from neglect, and it took patience and prayer just to attempt cutting out her dreadlocks. Then came the issue of the claws. She would allow only one cut at a time, once a week.

Blood was noticed around her water dish. The vet was told plainly: Prudie was well over twenty years old, and no one was going to invest in five hundred dollars’ worth of bloodwork to discover what was already evident. Kidney disease was the suspected culprit.

The Quality of Life Check

Dr. Louka — the best veterinarian in Orange County — suggested a “quality of life” examination. Through that, the source of the bleeding was discovered: Prudie’s claws had overgrown into her paws. Thank God she was relieved of that pain.

Kitchen Table

For the last three months, Prudie took over the breakfast table. She slept there and came down only to eat and relieve herself. At first it was fine — meals moved to the dining room, making it an everyday space rather than one saved only for special occasions.

But the house was beginning to smell of cat urine. Though she had two litter boxes, she kept missing and spilling onto the floor. Every effort was made to preserve her dignity — doggie pads were purchased — but before long the pad had to be changed every single time she used the box. And she had taken to sneaking into the living room and relieving herself on the newly purchased carpet.

The connection finally became clear. Prudie had claimed the kitchen table to get attention. She was declining, and this was her way of communicating. If she had a voice, this is what she would have said: “Mom, I’m sick — and I’m ready to go Home.”

Our Quality of Life

Suffering was happening right alongside Prudie. Two favorite rooms had become inaccessible. The deciding factor came down to the stench that had settled into the house. Cleaning, changing litter boxes, sanitizing the carpet, changing the pads — all of it was taking a toll on both of us. There is a quality of life to tend to as well, and Prudie was sending her messages, asking for help to ease her pain.

Saying Goodbye

The night before the appointment, I held her close and told how much she was loved. Our grandson Jacob was brave enough to come along to the appointment. Prudie refused to come out of her carrying case — instead she folded her paws inward and buried her sweet head. She knew. It was just as hard for her to say goodbye. Loving Prudie was a blessing.

My Prayer

Dear Lord, thank You for the scrappy, sharp-clawed, manger-stealing gift that was Prudie. May we always be good stewards of the creatures You place in our keeping — and may we never miss what they are trying to tell us. Amen.