Missionary Updates

Missionary Updates

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Letter from the Zimmerman Family
October 2017, Kathmandu




…and Jesus gave him to his mother. Luke 7:15

Dear Friends,

Rama’s daughter and son were admitted to Patan Hospital on the same day in April. It’s usually a
hot, dusty time in the Kathmandu valley, but this spring’s persistent rains prompted us to wonder if the
monsoon had arrived early. Radha came to the hospital because of a miscarriage and went home the next
day. Madhav had acute pancreatitis and stayed. *Pancreatitis is usually caused by too much alcohol or by gallstones – either of which can damage this hand-sized organ located behind the stomach. Its digestive juices then leach into the surrounding tissues, causing severe abdominal pain and vomiting. Most cases of acute pancreatitis respond to two days of intravenous fluids, analgesics and a naso-gastric tube, but Madhav’s condition was complicated. Fluid had accumulated around his left lung and a blood clot formed in his chest, so he was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit.

After three days, the doctors in the ICU transferred the 28-year old out to the care of my medical
ward team. Though lingering inflammation had wrecked his appetite, at that point Madhav still had a
muscular body sporting a variety of tattoos. The Hindu god Shiva, dreadlocks streaming, strode across his
chest. An elegantly-drawn Buddha reposed on his left forearm, while that arm’s flip side bore rough, handmade letters honoring the rapper ‘Fifty Cent.’ On Madhav’s right arm, a knife stabbed into a wound under the banner ‘Death before Living.’ Rama was a heavy-set, no-nonsense woman of about 50. From the start she made it clear to us that she didn’t have money to burn. Her husband had walked out on her ten years earlier, leaving her with four kids, ages 2 to 18. She’d worked as a cleaner in a hospital but had to leave that job due to bad knee pain. Here in Patan Hospital, anticipating a shortfall of funds, she’d insisted Madhav be taken out of the ICU earlier than that doctor advised. She was a constant presence at Madhav’s bedside and in a raspy voice snapped out accurate updates about his condition whenever we came on rounds.

One afternoon about ten days into his time with us, I circled back to see Madhav. He looked sick –
anxious, sweaty, and breathing hard. His blood pressure had dropped and he had a high fever, so probably
he had septicemia. I took Rama outside the room. “Madhav has gotten very sick. He may have a collection of infected fluid near his pancreas. I know you’re short of money, but we have to put him into the ICU. He may not make it if we leave him out on the ward. I’ll talk to Social Services about charity support.” I was surprised when she readily agreed and Madhav went into the surgical ICU. After a patient is transferred from our ward to another specialty team (like surgery), I usually stop seeing them. There are more than enough internal medicine patients to occupy my time. This past summer was particularly busy on the medical ward as we took care of a spate of patients with assorted fevers, some caused by scrub typhus or swine flu. But something drew me back to Madhav and his mother. From a young age he was living a wild life. He was a driver who’d spent his weekends binge drinking and he’d already been in and out of rehab. He had the look of a rough character, except that towards us he was always polite, almost timid, seemingly
embarrassed by the situation into which he’d fallen.

Rama spent every night in the hospital, sleeping on a piece of thin carpet padding – either beside
Madhav’s bed or in the hallway outside the ICU. She confided to me about her ongoing efforts, sometimes
with strategic tears, to raise funds – from neighbors, from Madhav’s former employer and from the hospital
administration – but she never asked me directly to contribute. It seemed that whenever there was a glimmer of hope – Madhav’s starting to eat, having less pain, his fever gone – it would soon be dashed by another complication. I came into the ICU one morning expecting to see progress and instead Rama’s face was a beacon of distress: “Look: now’s he’s bleeding!” as she pointed disconsolately to the bright red column coursing down his gastric tube. His inflamed pancreas had eaten into the adjacent intestine, causing an ulcer with a spurting artery that the surgeon had to sew over to stop the bleeding. Ten days later, as Madhav recovered from this major operation, the same thing recurred. As they again wheeled him into the operating room, the senior surgeon muttered to me, “I don’t think he’s going to make it this time.” But he did. [* All personal names have been changed.]

By July, the real monsoon had taken hold, unleashing its daily downpours ending in sun-spangled
cloudscapes and crisp air. Madhav grew emaciated. The periods of gastric drainage or fasting after two
operations had cut deeply into his body’s nutritional reserves. It was hard enough for Rama to pay for
antibiotics; the cost of IV nutrition packets would have been exorbitant.

Two more weeks went by. He finally left the surgical ICU and began to eat a normal diet. These
feedings were followed by fresh attacks of abdominal pain. The ultrasound showed that he’d developed
gallstones which had reignited his pancreatitis. One day I found him curled up in pain and breathing hard.
This time Rama motioned for me to follow her outside. We walked out onto a ramp, where the air in the
space between two buildings was misty from the morning’s rain. “I can’t take any more of this, doctor! I can’t! I can’t stand to see him suffer this way! He neither gets better nor dies! – just hangs there somewhere in between. When does this pain end!?” “You’re right, Rama. He’s very sick again.” “Enough of it! If this is his time to go to salvation, then so be it! It’s salvation time.” My well of encouragement was nearly dry. Maybe she was right. Maybe we had kept Madhav alive for our own sakes. But, then, it wasn’t like there was a simple way to end her son’s medical care. I looked at her for a moment. “Madhav has pulled through before. He doesn’t have a terminal illness, something impossible to cure. I know it’s hard, but let’s hope once more.”

So Madhav went in for his third operation, removal of his gall bladder, and then his deep abdominal
pain finally began to subside. By August, my updates on his condition were a regular item over our family’s
dinner table. We prayed for him and also asked friends to contribute their prayers. I started looking in on
Madhav first thing each day, searching for Rama’s faded orange kurta dress among the crowd of patients’
relatives. I suppose that in past years, when I was hospital director or chief of medicine, I would have
considered myself too busy to get so involved with a patient like Madhav, but this summer I made the time.

One Saturday, my son Benjamin and I dropped by and found the two of them locked in an argument.
Madhav looked dour. He’d begun to disengage from all the medical talk, withdrawing into an internal
sanctuary where morphine injections provided respite from the terrible world of the hospital.
She turned to me. “Doctor, this is the rudest person you can imagine! He won’t even look at me,
addresses me in low form, and generally treats me as his servant. Aren’t I the one who’s been caring for
him? Right now I’m ready to take him home and let him die. I’m sick of this hospital and of his disrespect!”
Two people standing beside the adjacent bed murmured in agreement. We went outside to sit and talk. “Rama, in all these years, I can’t remember a patient who suffered as much as Madhav, nor a mother who looked after her son so faithfully. Can’t you take a break, get someone, maybe Radha, to come and watch him one or two nights?” I often prayed with the two of them, but wondered how these were being answered. He just dragged on in his skeletal condition, the next calamity waiting around the corner. Finally I asked them if someone fromour church could come and pray, ‘a prayer specialist’ I said, perhaps to break the impasse. They readily agreed. Arun came with his wife Indira and they prayed with them at the bedside.

Who knows how illnesses take their course? But a week or so after this, Madhav’s appetite steadied.
His surgical wound began to close. He was able to walk to the hospital canteen. I came by one afternoon
and found him sitting alone on the edge of his bed, a hunched-over, reed-like figure. As I walked around
beside him, there was a steaming plate of chow mein. He barely gave me a nod, focused as he was on the
business of carefully spreading spicy chutney sauce over the fried noodles before beginning to devour them. Three weeks ago, after the hospital wrote off most of his bill as charity, Madhav and Rama finally
went home. Last week I was in the clinic seeing patients when my cell phone rang: it was Rama. She had my number, but hardly ever called it. I braced myself. When they came around I was relieved to see that
Madhav’s face was filling out. Rama said that he’d gained 5 kilograms as she pulled up his shirt. Madhav
even briefly smiled at me, saying he was thinking about looking for work, ‘kaam saam,’ he called it.
That day after work, I cycled home through the light afternoon air. The heat of a long monsoon had
finally given way to autumn. Cumulus clouds were heaped high at the edges of the valley and kites floated in the cobalt sky.

Mark, Deirdre, Zachary & Benjamin

Letter from the Melissa Cox
Completed 6 month commitment: Youth With a Mission
Cambodia and Thailand



Dearest Friends and Supporters,

Thank you for helping me discover more about who I am as a human being, my purpose, and who my heart, mind, and life belong to. I AM A CHILD OF GOD. We are all children of God and thus we are loved, cherished, adored, listened too, saved, redeemed, and have purpose PERFECTLY through our amazing and perfect Father and Lord. We do not fully understand Him or conceive his full greatness and righteousness and plans and intervention in our daily life, but he has revealed his glory to us simply, so that we are able to easily know Him and know his heart for us and the world. This is something I never really knew before I went to my Discipleship Training School (DTS) with Youth With a Mission (YWAM) Honolulu. I knew God was good and I knew he loved us, but BOY was I SO FAR AWAY from the personal relationship and soul-recognizing understanding of who He is and His work in us. This knowledge was the most transformative launching point and beginning step for me, which I truly only started to experience about 3 weeks into my DTS. How could I have POSSIBLY MISSED OUT on this love and peace all of my life that I have NOW! My heart overflows with thankfulness each new day and morning.

I want to tell you, first, that most of what I’m telling you has only been able to be put into words through prayer and revelation. God helped me put together the fragments and pieces of my experiences into a true picture of how He was and is working in me and my life. The Holy Spirit revealed more to me about what He has done in me when I reflected on my experiences after they actually happened throughout my time in DTS.

Now, the spiritual journey that I went through started with myself. As it usually does when the Holy Spirit comes into you when you receive the Lord as your savior and believe in the sacrifice Jesus made for us all. The Holy Spirit brings you to God most often through conviction: “And when [Holy Spirit] comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgement” John 16:8. This conviction most definitely happened for me. Sure, my whole life I “knew” God and “trusted” Him and I prayed simple prayers to give me strength and courage through trials. And He most certainly helped me greatly through my young life. But the point that led me to the true transformation and redemption of my mind and soul to HIM, where I actually recognized what was happening and truly desired for it myself, was through the conviction of the Holy Spirit. Holy Spirit had definitely been working in me for a couple of years before I dropped everything and said YES to God. I knew I needed to change, and a DTS was where the Holy Spirit was leading me.

What came after the conviction was BEAUTY. What came when the mess and wreckage that was in my heart and mind was recognized, cleaned up, and thrown out by the most loving hands, was BEAUTY. What flooded into my heart and mind was thankfulness, fullness, truth, love, and a yearning for more. To know more of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. To know more of myself as a child of God, a disciple, a person of purpose. What I got in the next 5 months was an overflowing of those things and so much more. What I got for the first real time in my life where I was able to recognize it, is “the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7). It all started in the foundational Lecture Phase of DTS and the practical discipleship activities we did. We had lecture once or twice a day that was based on one topic for the week. The topics, for example, were The Character and Nature of God, Holy Spirit, Evangelism, Servanthood, Biblical Worldview, among others. Each week there was a different speaker to teach us about the topic. Each speaker we had was unique, vibrant, and an obvious disciple and lover of God. Each speaker used personal stories and revelations to touch our hearts personally and help us see the moving of God here on earth in a tangible way. They helped us who were young in our spiritual journey see how God works, how we can recognize Him, and most importantly helped to fuel that small flame into a burning fire to see and know more of Jesus and live FOR Him.

Slowly but surely the Holy Spirit worked me from the inside out. The transformation went from the internal me to the external works and acts that we do as lovers of Jesus. As it should be. We are called to love Jesus with all of our heart and mind, and then we love those around us with the same love Jesus shows us. With the same compassion, grace, mercy, and purpose he has for us. If we don’t love others as Jesus loves us, we are not likely to show others who Jesus is. We are not called to cause the salvation of souls for Jesus, but we are called to love others and share the gospel, and through this the Holy Spirit will work to save their soul. We are called to love, step out, and act for Jesus. And this is what I was able to practice throughout the lecture phase, which completely led into my entire experience in the outreach phase of my DTS. During the lecture phase we participated in 3 different worship sessions a week, one lasting two hours. We had an evening of evangelism in china town, where I walked the streets with two other friends and we prayed for others and extended love and a listening ear. We attended two sermons a week, one at a local church and one on our base. And we volunteered at a local Christian church and school to clean and do construction inside and outside the buildings. I was immersed in this disciple of God experience, which was definitely difficult at first because I have never been that surrounded by GODLY activity 24/7. But day-by-day, week-by-week, the Holy Spirit broke me down. He broke down my self-conscious walls, my desire for independence, my selfish thoughts and intentions for my life. I died to myself, and I was set free in the love Jesus had for me. I was brought into my new identity and my new purpose in Jesus. I was brought into new strength that is only found in Jesus. This was fully revealed to me during my outreach phase in Cambodia and Thailand.

Cambodia and Thailand was SO DIFFICULT. I was on a team of all girls and one guy. All girls who were younger than me and tended to not talk about the same things I wanted to talk about or listen to the same music I enjoyed. The physical circumstances were what I struggle the most with. From the constant bug sitting next to you to the constant knot in your stomach, everything imaginable was different, and quite uncomfortable honestly. It challenged my mind and desired to take my soul from Jesus’ warm embrace. This is where I had to lean into the strength I had in Jesus. I played with the little children, ate all the village food, worked with pregnant mothers who didn’t speak any english, and dug dirt while covered in dirt and sweat because I LOVE Jesus. THIS is one of the most obvious and transforming heart lessons God has done in me. The more I know Jesus, the more I love him. And the more I love him the more I desire to do what he calls me to each day, BECAUSE I love him. Among many other truths God planted into my soul when the lies were ripped out, he planted HIS love in me. A love that He reveals to everyone who desires Him and wants to be His disciple. A love that gives you the strength to do the uncomfortable and the impossible. A love that brings you PEACE and JOY when you never thought it would come. A love that gives you clarity in the clear-as-day moments and in the darkest moments. A love that brings you deeper and deeper into Jesus and what he wants for you and his children. A love that is richer than anything on this earth, and a love you will do anything for.

My experience during my DTS had many, many wonderful moments during the physical activities of working and serving those around me. I could see how God was working through us to reach the community, from the largest things we did to the absolute minute things that seemed meaningless, yet were FAR from it. However, what I have shared with you has been the most meaningful and transformative aspect for me that was and is a launching pad for all the physical works I did. The INTERNAL, heart, mind, and soul transformation. What He did in me is what he desires for every single human on this planet. To KNOW HIM and then MAKE HIM KNOWN. And the only way you are going to know him is if you seek him, invite him in. And then step out and make Him known.

My time at my DTS was absolutely priceless. I would never trade it in for anything else, and I absolutely recommend it for anyone who feels that tug on their heart to go. I felt that tug, stepped out against the “normal” grain of life, and said YES to God. It was and is the absolute best decision I ever made. You can make that decision too. To not settle for normalcy, the comfortable, and complacency in your walk with God. You can walk into courage, passion, purpose, and the supernatural instead. You can walk in the kingdom come here on earth.

Thank you for your support and prayers in this whole process. I couldn’t have done it without you. All praise and thankfulness be to God, who loves us immeasurably and perfectly.

With love,

Melissa Cox

Letter from the Zimmerman Family
August 2017, Kathmandu

Dear friends,

“Those who dwell in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty” Ps. 91.1 Gyaani had been attending our church for some years when our pastor’s wife asked me to give her some dietary advice for diabetes. Kathmandu’s urban population has seen a huge increase in overweight and obesity as people adopt ‘modern’ sedentary lifestyles and become increasingly habituated to cheap, processed foods in their diet. Gyaani had the appearance and demeanour of many of the middle-class, middle-aged Newari women in the congregation: reasonably well-dressed, somewhat overweight, and confident enough to speak her mind in women’s fellowship meetings. However a series of high blood sugar results had thrown her into a panic and resulted in several late-night phone calls to the pastor’s wife for help and reassurance.

As I explained the concepts of the diet to Gyaani, she grabbed the information and ran with it…almost literally! She adopted an early morning walk of 90 minutes each day, and cut back drastically on the amount of oil she was using for cooking. Within a couple of months, she was delightedly reporting to me her significant weight loss and the return of her blood sugar to normal levels. Since then she regularly asks me for copies of the diabetic diet sheet so that she can share the information with friends and relatives who are struggling with diabetes. Gyaani was nine years old when her alcoholic father died of cancer. Their landlord immediately evicted her mother and the children because of the bad ‘karma’ associated with a widow. Gyaani’s mother found a new room for the family, but began leaving the children for extended periods. Gyaani assumed that her mother was working long hours as a domestic servant, but in fact she had fallen in love with a widower with an infant son and within months she abandoned her own children altogether. At 10 years of age, Gyaani became fully responsible for her 8 year old brother and 3 year old sister. She worked by day as a labourer on a building site and in a carpet factory till midnight in order to pay the rent and buy small amounts of old rice and lentils for their food. Gyaani frequently visited local Hindu temples to pray that her mother would return to them. At one desperate point, she took her brother and sister to seek help from their mother, but they were simply beaten by the new husband and sent away.

Gyaani was 15 years old when a friend of her landlord, a rich man who owned a factory, began to show an interest in this resilient young woman. Visiting his family’s large house and seeing their fields of fertile farm land, Gyaani was drawn to the possibility of a better life for her and her siblings. She met his parents who appeared to welcome her and assured her that he was not already married. However, before Gyaani could make a decision herself, she was kidnapped by the family during a Hindu festival and found herself without any choice but to accept her position as the man’s wife. Gyaani’s older married sister arranged a place for her younger siblings, and Gyaani consoled herself that she at least she could help with their support. It was 18 months later when Gyaani’s husband’s child bride, living until that point with her own family, suddenly appeared at the house to claim her position as his ‘real’ wife. Overnight, Gyaani’s position changed to that of a servant and she began to endure severe mistreatment at the hands of her mother-in-law and the other ‘wife’. At 16 years of age Gyaani attempted suicide, swallowing down a mix of kerosene and agricultural insecticide. She was found in a coma, and spent 4 days in hospital before regaining consciousness. After her recovery, the family kept Gyaani outside the house in a shed, even when she discovered she was pregnant.

Gyaani’s first daughter died at 6 weeks of age from pneumonia. Gyaani finally made the decision to leave her husband’s family and sought refuge in her uncle’s house. She was very depressed, but her husband asked to visit her, first moving her into a rented room of her own and later allowing her to live in his family’s second house in the city. His regular visits were often accompanied by beatings and abuse at the instruction of his mother, but the years passed and Gyaani raised 3 daughters in that house. Gyaani’s life changed again when her husband got the chance to emigrate to America. Gyaani was heartbroken by the need to sign over her two teenage daughters to her husband’s other ‘wife’ in order for them to go with him. Gyaani’s eldest daughter remained with her, and her well-paying job paid the bills when Gyaani became ill and needed gynaecological surgery for some growths. On the morning of her operation, Gyaani’s daughter visited a local temple to offer Hindu worship for Gyaani’s well-being. At the same time, an elderly woman in the bed beside her told Gyaani that she was Christian and offered to pray for her. Gyaani refused, saying she didn’t follow the one called Jesus, but the woman set her hand on Gyaani’s bed and prayed anyway. As Gyaani was taken into pre-op, she herself called out to God, not knowing what name to call Him by, asking for help.

After a final pre-op assessment, the surgeon told her that the growths had shrunk significantly and the operation was cancelled. Although her daughter ascribed this healing to her Hindu prayers, Gyaani felt sure it related to Jesus and began to look for a church to visit. Her mother-in-law and daughter were appalled at the possibility, and both threatened Gyaani with eviction from the house if she pursued the matter. It was a year later when two Christians moved in to the ground floor as renters. Gyaani began to attend a small fellowship held in their room on Monday evenings…until her mother-in-law found out and evicted them. Amazingly, the next set of renters were also Christians, and so it was that one day Gyaani made her way to church with them. When Gyaani’s daughter found out, she flew into a rage, threw the renters out, and had a doctor prescribe sedatives for Gyaani. Despite her mother-in-law and daughter’s best efforts, Gyaani began to regularly attend the large church the ex-renters attended, although she struggled to understand the Christian faith in that crowded setting.

It was when she became ill again, and was visited by some Christian ladies for prayer, that Gyaani heard about a smaller church located close to her home. And so it was that Gyaani came to our church 6 years ago, and received more personal teaching and discipleship about God’s love and mercy as shown in Christ. Gyaani had found the One who would never leave her nor forsake her. Reading the gospel of John, she decided she needed to be baptised. Her daughter was so upset that she beat Gyaani badly and then, on the morning of the baptism itself, threw her and all her personal belongings out of the house. Gyaani was distraught and crept back later into an empty room in the house but, as she lay down on the floor sobbing, she experienced a vision of God in His glory. A few weeks later, she joined the next baptismal group and, still with some trepidation, was baptised. That same afternoon, Gyaani’s eldest daughter got news that she too had won a visa to emigrate to America. Gyaani now lives alone, although she is in close contact with her daughters and has applied to visit them in California. She told me this story of her life as we were walking arm-in-arm through the dark city streets, Christmas carolling with our congregation. She was excited to have invited a group of her relatives to hear us sing outside her house, and anxious as to how they would respond. Later that month, Gyaani’s mother’s husband fractured his leg and was admitted to hospital. Gyaani stayed at the hospital supporting the couple until the elderly man died of complications. She continued her efforts to support her mother in her time of grief, but wept openly in women’s fellowship as she spoke of the continued deep hurt and sense of betrayal in their relationship.

Some weeks later, Gyaani wept again when she told how her mother had signed a financial document which, for the first time, referred to Gyaani as her daughter. Gyaani’s mother is now frail and struggles with illness herself. She too has begun to attend our church whenever the rest of the family allow her. During a recent hospital admission, Gyaani again stayed on the ward with her, taking the opportunity to speak to the patients and family carers about Jesus and pray with them. 7 people committed themselves to following Christ. Gyaani came close to tears at several points as she related her story. As she drew to a close, she looked me steadily in the eye, and summed up her situation. “I live alone. But I know that God has been with me since the time I was in my mother’s womb. Even if everyone leaves me, God will always be with me. I have suffered, but Christ also suffered for us.”

Sincerely, Deirdre, Mark, Zachary & Benjamin