Called to Gobi

by D. I. Telbat

  "All right. Just keep everyone back," I said, "and find my shovel."

  In numbing sorrow, I took care in wrapping Tzegabor's body in two blood-soaked blankets. There was more blood and splatter elsewhere, but the other wives could tend to that. Her body felt no heavier than one hundred pounds as I handed her out to Luyant's able arms. He cradled her against his chest as a wail from the other women erupted. Zima's jaw trembled as she brought me my trenching shovel.

  Luyant walked slowly out of camp to the west and we followed. Only the three herdsmen stayed behind to watch the camp. The women and children fell in step behind me and Zima as we walked arm-in-arm behind Luyant. Dusbhan, carrying his AK-47, rode his horse far to our right about two hundred yards. I was thankful he'd not had the weapon when Gan-gaad had stormed into camp. That may be an odd thing for me to say, but I didn't wish for Dusbhan to kill his uncle. In prison, I'd known many different kinds of killers. Death seems to stay with a man. Dusbhan didn't need that burden.

  Silence followed us as we climbed the hill still covered with grass in its final season before below-zero temperatures would make the landscape desolate. At the crest of the hill, Luyant stopped, and I began to flatten an area with my shovel. The clan gathered around, but Dusbhan sat on his horse at a distance. I didn't dig quickly, but it didn't take long to have a four-by-six area prepared for their customary sky burial where the body would be left to scavengers. Luyant still held Tzegabor, a frown on his face, but I saw no tears. He laid her gently on the plot of dirt, and I stepped back as the women came up one at a time to place food or blue stones around their clan mother's body. Zima had brought a piece of white canvas and placed it over Tzegabor's face.

  That day, I didn't even feel led to speak, only to watch and listen. Sometimes, there are no appropriate words to say. One can only feel the loss of life deep inside the heart. With my shovel over my shoulder, we all turned sadly and walked back to camp.

  The next few days were difficult for the clan. No one made eye contact. Dusbhan rode his horse around the camp in an endless circle during the days and some nights. He slept like that more than a few times, his head bowed while astride his horse. Luyant continued to string his snowshoes and we all took care of the livestock, though with few words and no conversation.

  "I feel I'll never smile again," Zima confessed to me on the third day after Tzegabor's death.

  She lay her head on my shoulder, and I read from the Psalms at the dinner fire. Luyant and the others listened and stared into the flames. But Dusbhan sulked in the darkness behind me at the edge of the firelight.

  On the fourth day, Navi-hasgovi and his clan packed up and started south. They didn't offer us any parting words.

  There was no government investigator who would look into Tzegabor's murder. Very few people care what happens out there in the remote wilderness. For a time, I struggled with the lack of justice that would be dealt Gan-gaad. But God knew what had happened, and every man is held accountable for his actions, eventually, whether good or bad. I shared this with Dusbhan during the night watch after the fourth day.

  "Tzegabor was like a mother to me," he mumbled in response, "a second mother. That's why Gan-gaad killed her. And he never loved her at all."

  "Dusbhan, look at me. Try not to hate. Hate injures your soul. The pain is deep, I know. I lost my own mother and father."

  "How did you continue to live?"

  "I hated everyone," I said. "That's how I know hate isn't the answer. Eventually, I gave the burden to God, the Good Shepherd. The sorrow is still there, but the pain is less. And I don't hate. God saved me from that destructive path."

  "Then what am I to do?"

  "Let me tell you a story, and you'll understand. A long time ago, southwest of where we stand, Romans ruled what they knew to be the world at that time. Then God came to earth as a Man, pure and perfect. His name was Jesus. As a Man Himself, He became an example for man, but He was also fully God, called the Son. He taught in many towns and performed miracles that healed the blind and lame. But the religious leaders hated the things He taught and did because it took the peoples' attention and money off their traditional ways.

  "So, the religious leaders plotted to kill Jesus. They found a man to betray Him, a close friend of Jesus, and they found Him in a garden with a few of His followers. They bound Him, beat Him, and spat on Him."

  "On the God-Man?"

  "Yes, and He deserved none of it. He'd created the whole world, and loved the whole world and every man in it, which is why He didn't destroy them all with a single word. That's true love. But they tortured Him, and as they were killing Him, during His final hours, you know what they recorded Him as saying?"

  "What?"

  "He said, 'Forgive them, for they know not what they do.'"

  "Forgive them? Forgive the religious leaders?"

  "The religious leaders, His followers, everyone and anyone who had allowed Him to be killed."

  "And He died? God died?"

  "He died, but because He was God, death couldn't hold Him. He rose from the dead, thereby conquering death. This is why we depend on God to save us from all evil, because Jesus conquered it all."

  "And the wolf was destroyed." Dusbhan understood. "He really forgave them?"

  "Yes, He did," I answered, then I went into my ger to sleep.

  In the morning, I climbed Tzegabor's hill with my Bible and journal. I prayed and read from Hebrews chapter four. The passage about rest was comforting to my soul, reminding me not to design my own comfort, but to trust God through all hardships. When I finished writing Gino my thoughts, I looked up to see two riders approaching the camp from town. It was Gan-gaad with Squirrel's mother holding Squirrel in the saddle.

  "Lord, open this man's heart and change his ways," I prayed. "Meanwhile, protect us all from his anger."

  Those in camp saw him coming, too, and tensed for his arrival. Zima, however, bridled her horse and rode out to join me to escape any of Gan-gaad's left-over frustrations. She dropped to the ground next to me, leaving her horse to wander and munch the dying grass close by.

  "Pond, have you seen? He's back."

  "Yes, I've seen."

  "What will happen?"

  "We'll go south to the Gobi. Gan-gaad will lead us, and we'll follow. And slowly, we'll live again beyond this difficult time."

  "Are things always so easy for you?" she asked.

  I studied her face, so full of fear and sincerity. Life had been hard on her, but she could've done worse than Luyant for an adopted father, even if he saw her as a creature below the horses that his brother owned.

  "No, things aren't easy for me, Zima. Sometimes, I try to force things to happen instead of submitting to God's direction of events around me. We live in a complicated world, but everything is easier to handle when God is foremost in our thoughts."

  "The snake from the Garden ruins so much." She sighed. The clan began to dismantle the camp and move the animals south for a two-week ride to the next and last town. "We'd better go help. Gan-gaad will want to leave this place behind." She faced Tzegabor's site. "Sleep softly, Sweet Mother. I will miss you."

  *~*

  Chapter 12

  With Navi-hasgovi ahead of us, Gan-gaad saw no need to hurry along that first day. We moved at a steady pace, Zima and I riding our horses in the rear, occasionally rounding up strays that wandered from the caravan. Everyone kept their distance from Gan-gaad, yet everyone doted over Squirrel and his fresh scar on his belly. I'd already been opted to remove the seven stitches from the boy's abdomen, and I'd assured Gan-gaad I could do it.

  Riding alone, Zima and I read the Gospel of John a chapter at a time and then discussed it. We were also still working our way through the tutor of the Old Testament, and God was truly giving her the understanding to move swiftly through the complex issues. I've found that when a man or woman learns in isolation, he or she learns quicker and retains more than those not isolated. Since Zima was my only steady pupil, and an avid learner at tha
t, we didn't linger over issues that most American Christians seem to argue about when the Word is so plain. The world was created in six days. The Jews are God's Chosen People. Jesus really would return for His believers in the near future. I taught her the historical, literal method of interpreting Scripture, as I was taught—God's Word says what He means it to say.

  In the late afternoon, Dusbhan rode back and joined us. He saw my Bible in Zima's lap. She knew she didn't need to hide it from him.

  "Will you still give me one of those so I can read it for myself?" he asked me.

  "I have one waiting for you in Hasagt."

  "You have friends there?"

  "No, but I have mail there. My friends are in Ondorhaan."

  "Someday, I'll go there," he said. "I'll travel many places. I've decided I don't want to be a clan leader. Maybe your God has another place for me."

  "I'm sure He has a plan for you. And perhaps it's time to call Him your God as well."

  "Perhaps," he said, avoiding my eyes, then he changed the subject. "I rode ahead. Navi-hasgovi destroyed the next spring, knowing we were soon to follow. He's a day ahead of us, maybe more."

  "Gan-gaad will be furious about the spring," I said. "We'd better go fix it before we all get there."

  "You and Zima are best at that," Dusbhan said. "May I read your Book while you go ahead? I'll keep it hidden."

  "Yes, you may."

  Zima gave him the Bible and he nodded his thanks. He was the type of man who had to sort out the Bible for himself, no matter how long it took, so I gave him no recommended passages as I would've a person with less ambition for the truth.

  The two of us rode ahead with my shovel. When we arrived, we were only thirty minutes ahead of the clan. The spring was in worse shape than I'd imagined, as if Navi-hasgovi had thrown a stick of dynamite into the spring mouth. It had only been a trickle to begin with, I was told, but Navi-hasgovi had left it dry. Zima set about constructing a dam to pool the water while I climbed into the trough and cleaned out the mud. I tried not to think about the type of man who would do this intentionally to his neighbor and his neighbor's stock. Gan-gaad and Navi-hasgovi weren't that different. Both were stuck in a bitter world, a selfish existence.

  Finally, I cleared away sludge to permit a gurgle, then a bubbling, then a small geyser of water. In truth, I believe the spring had never flowed so well, even before it had been ruined by the preceding clan. The pool was filled and the mud began to settle as the first horses trotted up to quench their thirst. I was covered in mud from head to toe, but I was happy to defuse the bomb that could've blown.

  That night, Gan-gaad was drunk well before the meal was served, and surprisingly, his words became slurred and so misunderstood that he began to sob in frustration. Luyant, who hadn't touched his two-stringed lute yet, helped his brother to his ger and into bed, his wives and children with him.

  Dusbhan emerged from his ger with my Bible to read silently to himself by the firelight. Luyant didn't seem to approve with Gan-gaad so near, but he didn't communicate to his son to do otherwise. Instead, Luyant began to play his lute, and his wife chanted a quiet urtyn duu, occasionally smiling at her husband who smiled back at the words of their song. The song was about a grain of sand that came from the sky in a snowflake. It was blown across the Gobi in a sandstorm into a clansman's eye. The clansman washed the grain of sand from his eye and a fish swallowed it. A bear ate the fish, digesting the sand as well. The clansman killed the bear, ate the meat and the sand grain, but it got stuck in his tooth. He lost his tooth and the sand with it and—

  Mutely, Luyant cried for mercy as he stopped playing and covered his wife's mouth in fun.

  "It's a tale that goes on forever," his wife told me with a giggle. Her name was Skaamaan. She was plump but lovable, and loyal to her husband who asked for very little on paper and nothing by word. "Do you know any songs, Pond?"

  All eyes were on me.

  "I know some, but they're all in English. Let me think."

  I flipped through a mental list of songs, mostly religious, and realized I'd have to translate them on paper into Mongolian to see if they worked with the tune since Mongolian words are generally much longer than English words. But I did sing for them a halting version of "Amazing Grace," in Mongolian. They loved it anyway, and I urged them to continue because I wanted to learn their much more sophisticated vocal skills. Like the couple we'd become, Zima and I held hands and listened—until she leaned close and whispered into my ear.

  "I know what Nicodemus didn't understand."

  "Yeah?" I asked, startled.

  "Born again," she said. "It's starting fresh, like a baby."

  Her words seemed to wipe away the recent sorrows from my soul. I grinned. God opens hearts in His time, not ours.

  "That's right. Just like a baby."

  "You were born again?"

  "Yes, I was. About seven years ago."

  "Can I be born again tomorrow? Can God do that?"

  "Oh, yes, Zima. God can do that. I can't think of a better way to begin the day. Afterward, you'll be a child of God."

  "A child of God?" She watched the coals glow. "A child of God . . ."

  #######

  As you can imagine, I didn't sleep much that night. In II Timothy, chapter four, we're told to be ready in season and out of season to preach the Gospel. To make sure I was ready, I studied up on verses for a new believer to understand the steps toward salvation. There are many verses that explain these born again truths—with only one way to get there. I generally used five steps to clarify that a person understood exactly what he or she was asking of God.

  First, it must be understood that everyone is a sinner and is separated from God. Second, God loved us so much that He gave His Son to die for our sins. Third, dying in our sin means separation forever from God, while eternal life comes by trusting Jesus Christ. Fourth, in order to begin a new life in Christ, to be saved, one must believe that Jesus died for their sins, then declare that Jesus is the Savior. Lastly, Romans 10:13 gives us that simple and eternal promise: if you call on Jesus, He will save you for eternity.

  It seemed I'd just fallen asleep when Gan-gaad's voice shattered the morning air barely after daybreak. Time to move out. I'd already learned to pack the night before, except for final necessities. Hastily, I rolled up my sleeping bag and set my pack outside the ger. Since I shared my living space with a pile of riding blankets and saddles, I was often caught by surprise by any number of visitors while I was dressing or sleeping. But in a land of necessity where one can't even answer nature's call in much privacy, I was getting used to the lack thereof. Prison hadn't been much different.

  So, while I was getting dressed or putting on my boots, the gear from my ger, and the ger itself, always seemed to be hauled away before I was completely prepared. Why we had to leave within five minutes instead of ten, I shall never know. But I was adjusting to the lifestyle, even if I didn't fully understand it.

  In minutes, Zima and I stood alone on the trodden ground, waving at Squirrel with his sisters in the back of the cart as the clan moved off in the distance.

  We sat beside the small spring, which would again need some engineering after being trampled, and we opened the Bible. That morning, I did most of the talking. Even though she'd read John's account of being born again, and understood what Nicodemus couldn't, I still reviewed the steps through John and Romans. I didn't want her rushing into the greatest choice one can make.

  Much of what I explained to Zima that morning was what I'd witnessed in my own life. A Christian, if he or she is living right, is the best testimony that exists, outside of the Word. Before we prayed, she heard the brief story of my life—my rebellion on the streets of New York City, my years in prison, which became my turning point, and my pursuit of being a servant of the Most High.

  Initially, I felt it was possible that Zima's desire to commit her life to Christ was based largely on her affection for me rather than from a sincere heart. However, I'd witnes
sed the general and specific revelation of Jesus Christ manifested in her over those first weeks. Also, I'd seen her throw her pagan bracelet, a family heirloom, into the fire and defend God as the Only God. Genuine faith will always be proven by genuine works. And if she was honestly seeking God's direction in her life because of me, then I was humbly honored to be used by my Lord. She recognized the Bible as the Truth. Only the Spirit can open the eyes to see that!

  "Are you ready?" I asked.

  Sensing we were about to pray, she folded her hands and nodded. She was ready.

  "Pray from your heart," I said, "and speak to God as your Lord. Tell Him what you desire."

  Already, tears were welling in her eyes.

  "Dear God, I know I have sinned and I want to thank You for Your forgiveness." She spoke in a clear, soft voice. "I believe Jesus died for my sins. I now receive Your offer of eternal life. I will follow Jesus as my Savior and try to obey Him in all I do. Thank You for my new life. In the name of Jesus, amen."

  Barely had she closed her prayer than she threw her arms around my neck and cried. This was such a big step in her life, a step of freedom from the penalty of sin, and a future of security. But in that land, being a Christian could make one an outsider. I'd recently read how Christians in China had died for the Gospel. Zima knew the risks, though—the risks from possibly even her own adopted uncle, Gan-gaad, if he should find out. But she also knew the risks were worth the choice. The cost of following Christ is never truly loss.

  I rubbed her back and mumbled reassurances until she finally pulled away

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  She nodded and wiped her nose with a sleeve.

  "But I feel selfish," she said.

  "Selfish? How so?"

  "I have found what I know so many want. Tzegabor didn't believe in Jesus, and now she's dead. The kids in the clan . . . How can I not tell them, Pond?"

  "You can tell them, Zima. The Bible commands us to tell them. We simply must be wise and careful when dealing with Gan-gaad and maybe a couple of the others. But because of you, there are twice as many believers in the clan now. I have no doubt there'll be more soon. Two is just the beginning. Speaking of the clan, we'd better repair the spring and catch up with them!"