November 10, 2012
Where the Spirit Moves Freely
A Visit to the Slum Church
Off the Map and Into the Margins
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 readied the eyes for poverty like this. And the dust, thicker here than anywhere else because the roads are entirely unpaved, leaves one quietly wondering what monsoon season must do to what little these families have.
The Church That Shame Could Not Touch
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.
A Suitcase Left Behind
Before leaving, a suitcase full of medicine was placed in their hands. A small thing, perhaps. But love always finds a way to be tangible. Then the next assignment called, and the road continued.
The President
An Unexpected Summons
Eighteen in a Van — Again
An invitation arrived 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.
The City Would Not Cooperate
Traffic held the group 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 the 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
The 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.
A Ceiling Worth Looking Up
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 the group and this kind gentleman — an exchange that no agenda could have planned and no protocol could have produced.
A Prayer and a Parting Gift
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
Where Favor Followed Every Door
Another Office, Another Welcome
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 the 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.
Favor That Cannot Be Scheduled
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.
