Waiting Village

You won’t find this village on a map.
It will take hours by bus or taxi and then on foot to reach it. 
For miles in all directions there is no church but hundreds of idols on every corner, perched and gazing out with big eyes. Down the winding stone footpath with a wall of bamboo on the right hand side, a natural spring well inside a cave that the village uses as a water source rests.
Turning upward along another path we come up a grassy slope to an abandoned house, abandoned for the people there have since died.

But once I was laying on that balcony, resting on a bamboo woven mat as an old man nearby smoked hooka. 
Once I sat inside a kitchen as a large fire blazed with sweet smells of home cooked bread and lentils.
A woman with a quick smile and coarse gestures urged me to eat. 
Once I sat on the grassy hill below the house, praying and watching ladies cut long grass for their animals with small machetes. 
Once I got up in the middle of the night to use the outhouse on a star filled night, the moon lighting my way.
Once I saw the goats tied in barns and chickens wandering.
Once I took a bath in a large shallow wooden barrel filled with steaming water that had been heated on the kitchen fire. Once I came to this village and then I moved on. 

Out of the hundreds of villages, towns, and homes I remember this one in particular.
I had never mentioned Jesus or the Bible but somehow a teenage girl  had studied in another town and heard of him.
Can you tell us who Jesus is? The haunting question still wanders through my mind. 
Haunting because after that question we women shared the gospel with the women and the men shared with the men. However, after ten years there are still no believers, no churches, no Bibles, no hope there.
It takes more than a one time evangelism trip to change hearts.
It takes someone living there, learning the language, building relationships, sacrificing, patiently teaching, loving.

It takes years. 

We need help. They need help. 

As I write this, I am in a nearby country, faithfully doing the work.
Faithfully discipling people who have been waiting to hear about Jesus for a long time. 
Yet, still this village waits.
Waits for someone to love Jesus enough to love them. 

This is a real place.

Will you go?