I hadn’t really thought of it before. To be the first Christian someone had ever met. I didn’t care much of what people would think of me but what would they think of Jesus after they did meet me?

Would I represent Him well? Would they want to know more about Him? Would Jesus be attractive to them? Would they feel His love? Know His forgiveness? Experience His power? Or would I say or do something that would close their hearts to Him? Would they judge all future Christians by what they saw in me? I began to think it is a great responsibility to be the first Christian someone would meet.

But now here I was. Standing in the tent of a Tibetan Nomad who had never met a Christian before. She was an old woman with wrinkles deeply carved into her face by the wind, the cold and the intense sunlight of the high altitude. She sat on the dirt floor cooking over a fire made of yak dung. The tent was filled with a thick haze of smoke. She looked at the strangers standing before her. Who were we? Where did we come from? Why were we there?

I asked through the interpreter if we could pray for her. She wasn’t quite sure what we were asking but politely agreed and let us know she had pain in her body. We gathered around her and I laid my hands on her head and asked God to minister to her. We thanked her for her hospitality and began to leave the tent. She followed us out and came to me, touching her head with both hands, asking me to pray again. The presence of God came and I could feel His love touching this dear woman. We said our goodbyes and began to walk away. Again, she stopped me, touching her head, asking me to pray again. She was being touched by the Living God whom she had never known. She was experiencing the love of Jesus whom she had never met. And she wanted more. This seemingly unimportant woman living on the Tibetan plateau was experiencing the love of God for the first time. I was overwhelmed by this experience. I went behind the tent alone and wept over these beautiful people.

Early the next morning we began to stir and crawl out of our small tents after a night of battling bone chilling cold and severe difficulty breathing at 16,000 feet. The sun was just rising over the horizon, casting beautiful light onto the mountains and lake around us. With the glow of the rising sun behind them, 8-10 women appeared on the horizon making their way into our camp, the woman we had prayed for the day before leading the way. They had all come looking for prayer. The old woman we had prayed with had made her way around the lake visiting the other tents telling them of what she had experienced from God as we prayed.

In the early morning light we laid hands on each one, asking God to reveal Himself to them in ways that we never could. We shared Jesus with them and gave them some scriptures in their language. Before they left, two older women came to me and placed two white scarfs around my neck, a sign of honor and respect. They were a little dirty and a little smelly but it was their very best. At that moment I pictured Jesus standing there. They were honoring Him and not me. It was Jesus who stood before them, loving them, ministering to them. Instead of meeting a Christian for the first time, they were meeting Jesus for the first time.

We go places to reach people who have never met a Christian before. But more importantly, it is our prayer that they meet the Jesus who lives inside of us. He is the one who loves, the one who forgives and the one who gives eternal life. It is our prayer that those who have never heard will hear. “And how will they hear without a preacher? And how will they preach if they are not sent?” Thank you to all of you who help send us to reach the ones who have never heard.

by Dan Taylor