Unexpected goodbyes
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Goodbyes are always difficult. Moreso when they are unexpected or untimely.

We had planned to stay in India for another five days, but we were forced to leave when it became clear that it was unsafe for us to remain. In the end, it was resolved with a few interviews with the police and other officials, and we were able to reschedule our tickets. 

We lost a few days in India, a few hundred dollars in tickets and a few hours of sleep. This pathetic attempt to intimidate us by forces opposed to our work has already backfired. We leave this country even stronger, and with greater confidence that we are called and protected by God himself. 

To any of you who knew about the situation — or inferred that something was up — thank you for your prayers and your support.

Our next stop is Cambodia, where our early arrival will allow us to meet up with the team from my church, Central Vineyard. All said, a good outcome all around.

John McCollum Comment
Dal, baby.

If you've spent much time at all with me, you know that I love to cook. A perfect day for me usually involves a long bath, a good cup of coffee, a trip to an ethnic market, hours in the kitchen and a meal with friends.

Four outta five ain't bad. After procuring a stopper for the bathtub at our hotel, I took my first actual bath since leaving America three weeks ago. And while good coffee is impossible in this town, I settled for some delicious Darjeeling tea. 

Yesterday was a market day in town, so Pak and I walked down the hill from the Silver Oaks hotel through the crowded streets of Kalimpong with Sunil and Amber, Asia's Hope India directors, into the Himalayan hill station version of my hometown's North Market. 

Spices for sale in the Kalimpong market.

My staff here has been working hard under often-stressful conditions over this last year, and I wanted to make them a meal as a tangible expression of my appreciation. I wanted to do something "American," and ruled out pizza pretty early in the game — none of our kitchens have ovens. Hamburgers seemed trite, and so I opted for tacos. 

Indians and Mexicans alike love chilies, limes and cilantro, so I figured I could find most of the ingredients. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed by the options offered in the countless spice stalls, green grocer carts and butcher stands. But at the end of the day, I had burdened my companions with satchels of spices, bags of vegetables and newspaper parcels of meat.

Meat.

We returned to the kitchen of our Kalimpong 1 Children's Home and began prep in earnest after dinner. Shambolic mise en place aside, I was able to get a dry rub on half of the meat and a wet marinade on the other half thanks to the effort of various kids, moms, dads and aunties. We whipped up a couple gallons of pico de gallo, sautéed some mirepoix and chopped up a few bowls full of cilantro, chillies and shallots — just in case. I built a savory pork bone broth and soaked a couple kilos of red beans for what would become what I told them was "Mexican dal" (dal being India's iconic and ubiquitous lentil stew).

Applying the wet marinade.

This morning, I arrived at KP1 shortly after finishing breakfast with my family, fired up the two-burner propane stove and started cooking the meal with the assistance of Punam and Radha, wives of Sunil and Amber. As noon rolled around, a couple dozen staff members, a relative or few and a handful of kids who had finished school for the day assembled to taste my approximation of authentic Mexican grub. I didn't have time, energy or ingredients to make tortillas, so we made do with chapatis. 

After demonstrating how to fill, roll and eat a taco, we prayed and dug in. To be honest, this wasn't a culinary masterpiece. Each dish was only about 70% as good as I had hoped. In my own kitchen, I know where everything is and how it all works. And when something doesn't taste right, I can reach into my own pantry and find whatever it takes to bring it into line. Today, I had only what I bought at the market and a few ingredients I didn't really know how to use.

But it was honestly one of the most satisfying meals I've made all year. All present expressed sincere appreciation of my efforts and curiosity of my methods. And though I suspect some of them merely feigned enjoyment of the actual food, everyone understood that I was doing it to serve them, to thank them. 

The rest of my day wasn't nearly as exciting — meetings with lawyers and a few hours of research. But I'll go to bed happy, knowing that I've enjoyed something wholesome and meaningful. May God bless my family, here and at home. Good night.

John McCollumComment
"So many stories of where I've been..."

As our plane took off from Kolkata for the short flight to Siliguri, I put on my headphones, cranked the volume all the way up and played a song that, for whatever reason, is always the first one on my playlist for this portion of the trip: The Story by Brandi Carlisle. 

A chill ran across my shoulders as the guitar intro rolled.

"All of these lines across my face tell you the story of who I am. So many stories of where I've been and how got to where I am."

And as the second verse hit its stride, "I climbed across the mountain tops, swam all across the ocean blue..." waves of emotion swept over me. "I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules, but baby I broke them all for you." I buried my head in my hands and bit my lip.

The second song on my playlist, "Set Me Free" — an old Vineyard worship tune — was one of only two songs (the other was "Break Every Chain" by Will Reagan) I could bear to listen to as I was enduring a particularly dark three-week period almost exactly a year ago.

"Fall on me, every so gently. Washing, washing my filthy stains. Shower me with your love. Breath on, breath on these dry bones. And break these chains and set me free."

As the song rolled into the chorus, I came undone. And although I didn't cry as hard — or for as long — as I did last June, it felt as if something broke loose inside me. And if I hadn't been on an airplane where my histrionics were likely to cause distress in my other passengers and the flight crew, I probably would have crawled into a fetal position and sobbed. And those who know me well probably know that I'm not especially lachrymose. 

So why all of this emotion? Well, I can't really go into all of the details in this forum, but my return to India was not a foregone conclusion as of this time last year. And this year, we had some concerns about our visas that caused us to wonder if we would be entering the country or returning to Thailand to activate "Plan B." Or "Plan C," if you're really counting. Even now, as I lie securely in my bed in Kalimpong, this visit is freighted with all kinds of intense feelings.

We drove up to Kalimpong from Siliguri this morning and arrived by lunchtime. Despite heavy rains in the early morning, we didn't encounter any landslides or washed out roads. The trip was relatively uneventful; the only delay was caused by a very slow moving train blocking our path about a half hour outside of Siliguri.

After enjoying a room service lunch and a brief nap, we headed out to visit each of our five homes (a sixth one is on the way; the kids are living among the other homes while we iron out funding to rent a house of their own). I surprised myself at how many of the kids names I remembered — I'd guess at least half of them. Considering that we now have more than 800 kids across Asia's Hope, that's not too shabby. 

Although I time was short at each place, it was a pretty joyful reunion. We finished the evening with a dinner at Home 1. I got some tips that should improve my chapati making, and I promised to make lunch for the staff later in the week. I'm thinking tacos. 

By the time we got to the last two homes, it was already getting dark, so I didn't get many pictures. But as I told the kids, I'll be here for a while. 

Tomorrow is church. I look forward to worshipping with these dear families tomorrow. And I hope I hold it together; I'm not sure the kids would understand 'why is John Uncle a blubbering wreck.' Tonight I'm thankful to the staff of Asia's Hope India and to those who work so hard to support these amazing families: Lake Forest Church in North Carolina, Transform Construction, Narrow Road Church, Scarlet City Church, Sacred Space Church, Vista Church and Life Church in Ohio and Real Wood Floors in Missouri. You guys — along with the many people who contribute to Asia's Hope — are my heroes, and are a blessing to me and my family.

Jaimashi! (Jesus wins).

John McCollum Comment
"Every nation, tribe, people and language"

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb…And they cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” — Revelation 7:9–10

Inaugurated eschatology is the belief in Christian theology that the end times were inaugurated in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and thus there are both "already" and "not yet" aspects to the Kingdom of God.

I'm no expert eschatologist, but I know that my family experienced some of the "already" this weekend in Doi Saket. I'm grateful that some of you were able to join us via Facebook Live. 

Among our staff and kids, we have seven distinct tribal groups represented at Asia's Hope Thailand: Lisu, Lahu, Hmong, Akha, Shan, Po Karen and Sgkaw Karen. And although they live together as brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, they still recognize and celebrate their unique ethnic heritage. 

At church on Sunday, most of the kids wore clothes that represent their tribal identity. And as our truly multi-ethnic congregation lifted its voice in worship, we got to experience a little bit of God's kingdom now. May God bless all of our churches with more diversity and unity!

John McCollumComment
Pictures > words

I've been so busy over the last couple of days I haven't really had time to write. Well, I've started two or three posts and abandoned them quarter-finished, thwarted alternately by overwhelming fatigue and a manic inclination to cover all of my thoughts about the last 15 years of ministry. So tonight, I'm going to let the pictures speak for me and leave the writing for another day.

An evening at Doi Saket 1...

Morning at and around the Heavenly Rest Guest House in Doi Saket...

Strategy session and lunch with Asia's Hope Thailand leadership team…

Afternoon with Doi Saket 3 and Doi Saket 4...

John McCollumComment
Give us this day our daily bread. And rice. And venison. And khao soi...

I don't think I can keep up this pace for the next three months. 

I'm not talking about the pool parties, the soccer games, the singing or the cavorting in the blazing Thai sun. 

No, I'm talking about the eating. I've been on the ground for a total of three days, and I've eaten a greater variety of dishes than most people eat in a year: grilled pork, stewed pork, pork blood cakes, pork curry, pork liver, chicken, fish, venison, boar, beef, lamb and a palate-busting array of soups, curries, omelets and fry-ups, veggies you've never even heard of. And rice. Always rice.

I'm thankful that our leadership here has never fallen prey to a grumpy, sullen parody of the gospel wherein ashen saints trudge morosely through a desert of self-abnegation. Instead, they've embraced an exuberant version of the Kingdom, one full of singing, laughter and feasting — one where everyone is both host and guest. Each meal is a prophecy, a tantalizing glimpse of the world to come.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my meals with my wife and kids and with people who are real servants of God, true heroes of the faith. 

John McCollumComment
The sacred and the simple
The lake near our Doi Saket 3 and 4 homes

I got up early this morning. It's more a side-effect of the jet lag than an outgrowth of a work ethic. But by 5am, I was showered, dressed and feeling restless. We're staying at the Good Shepherd Guesthouse, just steps away from our Doi Saket 3 and Doi Saket 4 homes. 

I did my best to not wake up Kori and the kids, and I wandered out to see if I could catch the sunset over the nearby lake. I got to the lake just in time, but I didn't really get any good shots — note to self: bring a tripod if shooting in the dark.

At about 6am, as the sun came up, I strolled past the gate of the Doi Saket 3 and 4 homes. One of my staff noticed me, waved and motioned me in. I arrived to find the older kids still a bit sleepy, but already hard at work. Chores start early in a family with 20 children. A couple of kids crouched on the floor of the DS4 kitchen, and I joined them, chopping cabbage and pork for the day's lunch. 20 shiny tiffin boxes sat glistening on the table, waiting for one child to add the fragrant rice cooking in the giant steamer burbling on the counter, for another to add the cabbage and for yet another one to top it off with the meat crackling in the propane-fueled wok in the corner.

Outside, groups of kids swept the leaves that fell during last evening's torrential rain while aunties combed hair, weaving ebony plaits tight enough to last almost a whole day of elementary school. Mom washed breakfast dishes on the front steps while Dad prepared for morning devotions. 

Little kids laughed, a few of the older ones argued playfully, a baby cried. Lovelorn cats complained to an audience of none, and neighborhood chickens squawked in agitation, distributing a nervous gazette of neighborhood hatchings and choppings. Dishes clanked, woks burbled and, animated by a gentle breeze, the branches sprinkled the metal roofs with the last of the overnight rain.

Nothing to see here. Just a couple of normal families getting ready for school. But in a world where chaos, fear, alienation and hate lay claim to the last, worst word, these simple chores take on for me a sacred significance, and embody a hope that may just save us all.

John McCollumComment
Pizza party with Asia's Hope scholars

I'm back home in Columbus, writing in a bit of a jet-lag induced stupor; 30+ hours of flights and airports will do that to you. I wanted to post some pictures from my last days in Cambodia before I left, but the time simply ran away from me.

On my very last night in-country, I had the privilege and the joy to rent a boat for a couple hours on the Mekong River to enjoy some long-wished-for recreation time with many of the Asia's Hope students currently studying at university around Phnom Penh.

Some of these kids I hadn't seen yet on my short trip to Cambodia; they're quite busy with homework, classes and tests. So it was so nice to spend a cool evening with some pretty cool people. I'm proud out each one of them, and the dozens of other Asia's Hope scholars I didn't get a chance to hang out with. Please pray for them. And please consider supporting their studies by visiting our scholarship page.

John McCollumComment