from his journal.

At our six thousand foot destination, these ridges are pulled together at their disciplined peak like a tightly drawn sari.  From our parking place at the Snake Temple below, our band traced a well-worn seam three hours into wilderness to a cave tucked a few thousand feet below the peak near a stream.  We dropped our packs, collected firewood, filled water jugs, and set about making chai.

Phil diced a ginger root into boiling stream water over the fire.  As it gave up its flavor, he added tealeaves to brew.  Then milk, then sugar.  Each ingredient had time to boil into the tea.  We miss in America what much of the world enjoys – a hot drink on a hot day.  Steamy cups of chai passed around a campfire after an uphill hike is divine.

It was four thirty when we finished and decided to seize the waning hours of sunlight with a pack-less blitz toward the summit.  Crossing the creek we found a maze of mountain goat trails cut into the mountainside over the years, hardly wide enough for a child.  We made our sweaty, sticky ascent breathing hard, gasping at the thinning air.

No one had touched this earth for many years.  Villagers below rarely came this high for wood and hunting is illegal.  Where we ascended, God and his animals dwelled.  It makes sense from up there why man instinctively builds altars and temples on high places.  We feel closer to God, like we can reach up and touch his dwelling place.  The Babel builders should have found higher ground.  From here half the work is done.

Animals abounded.  That day and the next we saw hoards of monkeys, bright green parakeets, barking deer, mountain goats, and a giant black bear.  We had seen bear tracks and nests for two days but our actually sighting was at the summit, a gift for our laborious hike.  We also saw leopard droppings, which are a particular size and shape and covered in monkey hair.  They look like unlucky rabbit’s feet.  And we were lucky enough not to bump into their owner.

In the south we are a frighteningly young team.  Our four units have a collective 2 years experience in South Asia.  When we look backward to see what God has done, we talk in terms of weeks and months.  The northern four units can speak in decades.  They are rooted residents of this country, like the rhododendron trees that dotted our trail.

Words fail me to express the vitalizing power of spending time with our seniors in ministry, with men and women who can still speak of the goodness of God and their commitment to the neediness of South Asia.  “They are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright” (Ps 92.14-15).

On our tired drive home, David turned to me and challenged, “What are you doing here?”  I mumbled something, hoping to sound thoughtful and spiritual.  He responded, “If you are coming to dump money and resources to try and make something happen that’s one thing.  But if you are looking for the Spirit to move, your time here better be marked by fasting and prayer.”

It was the second time in two days he urged me to fast and pray.  That is one of the many things I will take home with me to the south.