Have you ever heard a story that you just could not keep to yourself? Not one of those ”feel good” stories or those “winning a state championship on the buzzer” stories. But one of those pinch yourself and wonder, “Did that really happen?” stories. Well, I heard one of those stories recently, and my heart is about to explode because I just have to share. Now I am warning you now, this is a long post. But I promise if you hang with me, you will not be disappointed.
Saturday afternoon my parents were hosting some out of town Awana International guests at the house for a low country boil. They invited some of our close friends over to meet everyone. They also invited Santosh Ramdam. If you have been around me enough, or have even read my blog the slightest bit, you have heard about the Bhutanese refugees and my heart for these people. Santosh, along with his wonderful wife and five beautiful daughters, are Bhutanese refugees that were resettled to Atlanta, Georgia. After living in the refugee camps of East Nepal for over 15 years in bamboo huts with no running water, electricity, or stove, Santosh arrived to a modest apartment in Doraville, Georgia. Upon entering the room, that we would turn our noses up at if a realtor suggested we live in, he kissed the ground and said, “I cannot believe I’m here.”
To explain a little bit of the historical background, the Bhutanese government viewed people of Nepali origin as a threat to the political order, and began to pass laws discriminating against this group. Santosh and his family were a part of this ethnic group. When Santosh was a young boy, he was threatened with his life until he joined an anti-nationalist rebel group. Santosh was able to escape this group, and went on to enjoy school with his classmates. As a grade leader in his school, the police showed up and asked him if he was a part of the anti-nationalist movement. Santosh denied his involvement, but was still arrested and imprisoned. As a young boy of only seventeen, Santosh found himself in prison, brutally beaten for his past involvement with the rebel group, and for being of Nepali origin. Santosh was surrounded with Hindu prisoners, and began to join them in their prayers and worship just trying to seek refuge and a way out. One day, Santosh found a book hidden underneath someone’s pillow. The man had stolen this book just so he could use the pages to roll his cigarettes. Santosh, missing his studies, grabbed the book. Reading the book, which was missing a few chapters at the beginning and the end, became a part of Santosh’s daily routine. He started to soak in talk of this man named Jesus. He read that he was the true Savior, and that he could work miracles. Santosh began to treat his worship time with the Hindu prisoners differently from that point on, and he began to replace all the gods' names with “Jesus.” Santosh then cried out to God, “If you are God, like it says in this book, then take me from this prison in seven days.” Seven days passed, and the prisoners could see through a hole in the top of the prison, a police car coming down the mountain. The prisoners knew the officers were coming to beat them, leaving lashes up and down their backs from a whip and often beating the first one or two of them to death. Whoever was called first, was sure to get the worst of it. Santosh heard his name called first, and told his friends goodbye for the last time thinking he had reached the end of his life. Much to his surprise, on this seventh day, the officer said he was being set free.
It doesn’t end there. The police dropped Santosh off in the middle of the square with the same clothes he received eleven months earlier when he first arrived at the prison. Santosh, afraid and nearly naked, found a relative and said, “Take me to Jesus’s house.” Santosh arrived at a church where the pastor greeted him saying, “For six months your family has attended this church, and we have prayed for your return.” Santosh then surrendered his life to Christ, and over the next several months led the rest of his family to know this same Jesus as well.
Oh, and it’s not over yet. Santosh’s family relocated to the refugee camps of East Nepal. Here, Santosh and his family began a church, which turned into 55 churches, and over 18,000 salvations. Now that Santosh is living in Atlanta, he is having an even greater impact on the Bhutanese and Nepali people. He has given his life to serving others, and making His name known. Just this past Sunday, Santosh texted my Dad, whom he also calls Dad, saying, “Dad, we had eight salvation decisions at church today.”
All because some man stole a Bible in order to use the pages to roll his cigarettes. Or, was it because of the prayers of the church on the Indian border for his safe return that led to this Bible appearing underneath a pillow? All I know is that I am thankful for my adopted brother, Santosh Ramdam, and his family. Every time I am around him I leave encouraged. I am amazed at how much of an impact they have with so little, and I am completely overwhelmed with the passion and grace evident in Santosh’s life: the same passion and grace that God demonstrates to us.
Now, if you are still hanging with me, here’s where I need your help. When the refugees arrive, they arrive with nothing. The government gives them a small allowance to furnish their apartment with necessities, but also calls for them to pay back their plane tickets over several years time. On October 21st, Santosh’s brother-in-law and current Awana missionary in the refugee camps, Samuel Sinchuari, will be arriving with the rest of their family from Nepal. Wouldn’t it be nice if they came to apartments furnished and ready to live in? They don’t expect this, but what could it hurt? Can we shower them with the same love they have showered their fellow refugees with their entire lives? In fact, Santosh’s family is without a couch because he gave his up for a fellow church member in need.
Let me know if you want to be a part of this incredible ministry and opportunity. You will NOT regret it. I love these people, my new family, with all my heart, and I am asking you to help. I mean, isn’t that what family is for?
