In this excerpt from Leaving Buddha, Tenzin Lahkpa, formerly a Buddhist monk, recalls his first introduction to Jesus the Messiah.

Tenzin Lahkpa and Eugene Bach, Leaving Buddha: A Tibetan Monk’s Encounter with the Living God (New Kensington, PA: Whitaker House, 2019), 206 pages, ISBN 9781641231022.
Read the review by John Lathrop.
Read the introduction from Eugene Bach, “The Tenzin Lahkpa Story.”

A Christian Family Member

“Tenzin!”

“Yes?” I responded to the unknown voice yelling down the corridor after me.

“There is someone outside looking for you.”

I ended my meditation, stood up, and walked to the door. As I stepped outside, I saw a kind-looking young man, a little older than I, pacing around.

“Tenzin?” he said as soon as he saw me. I nodded.

“I’m Peema. Your uncle told me that you have been looking for us.”

“Ahh…so good to see you. My uncle told me that I had family living here, but I didn’t even know where to start. I was told that your family was living in Dharamsala. I asked around about you, but no one knew where you were.”

“Yes, we used to live in Dharamsala, but we moved to America a year ago.”

“I heard that you are a monk.”

“I used to be, but not anymore.”

I pulled my head back in surprise. “Not anymore? What happened? Did you decide you needed a wife?” I asked jokingly. Marriage was the number-one killer of monastic living.

“Not exactly,” he said a bit sheepishly. “Do you care to take a walk?”

“Sure.”

Peema and I strolled down the side of the mountain from the mon­astery. There wasn’t really anywhere to walk to, but taking a walk in the shadow of the mountains and away from the listening ears of other monks seemed to be what my relative wanted to do.

“My family is living in America and they really like it a lot. America is nothing like Tibet or India. Everything there is so much better. Everyone has a car, a house, and a mobile phone.”

“How did you get to go to America?” I asked.

“We were invited by a Christian man. Their church sponsored our visa and have helped us.”

“Christian?” I had heard the word before. I knew that it was the reli­gion of Westerners but didn’t know anything about it.

“Yes. There was an American who came to Dharamsala and told us about Jesus. We listened to him, and what he had to say changed our lives forever. We have never been happier, and we are doing better than any generation before us.”

I was shocked at what he was saying. Although I didn’t know much about the religion of the Christians, I did know that Tibetans hated their religion. Even Hindus, who recognize almost every god under the sun, hate Christians.

This chapter is an excerpt from David Joannes, The Mind of a Missionary: What Global Kingdom Workers Tell Us About Thriving on Mission Today (Within Reach Global, 2018).
Read the review by John Lathrop

The Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong is one of history’s great anomalies. It was, in fact, a world unto its own.[i] Two governments claimed jurisdiction, but neither actively administered it; anarchy reigned while secret societies presided over the no-man’s land. High-rise apartments situated atop a labyrinth of dark, filthy corridors. A mere six acres sheltered the estimated 33,000 people who resided within the Walled City, swelling the population density to 3.25 million people per square mile.[ii] It was the most densely populated spot in the world. (In contrast, Manhattan has the highest population density of any city in the United States at 27,000 people per square mile.)[iii] Crazy-angled apartment blocks obstructed water pipes; without proper sanitation, excrement had to be emptied into the stinking alleys below. At street level, two toilets served all 33,000 residents. The “toilets” consisted of two overflowing cesspools—one for men and one for women. Damp, narrow alleyways with open drains harbored drug peddlers, addicts, pimps, and prostitutes. Triad gangs operated openly in the favored secret hideout; criminal activity ran rampant. Newcomers were immediately recognized and suspiciously monitored; few outsiders dared venture into the heart of the city of anarchy.

The history of the Walled City traced its roots back to the Song dynasty (960-1279) when the Chinese established an outpost to manage the salt trade. For hundreds of years afterward, little took place at the lonely fort, until 1842, when China ceded Hong Kong Island to Britain by the Treaty of Nanjing. As a result, the Qing Dynasty authorities felt it necessary to bolster the fort, check British influence, and maintain a stronghold opposite the harbor. In 1847, the construction of a formidable defensive wall finalized.

The Qing-era Kowloon Walled City, circa 1868.
Image: Wikimedia Common

The Convention for the Extension of Hong Kong Territory of 1898 leased additional portions of Hong Kong (the New Territories) to Britain for ninety-nine years.[iv] The lease excluded the Walled City, which at the time had a population of roughly seven-hundred people. The British government allowed Chinese officials to continue there, given they did not interfere with the defense of British Hong Kong. The Qing dynasty ended its rule in 1912, leaving the Walled City to the British.

In 1945, at the end of the Second World War, refugees fled mainland China, seeking protection in the Chinese territory surrounded by British land. By 1947, two-thousand squatters occupied the Walled City. After a failed attempt to drive them out in 1948, the British adopted a “hands-off” policy in most matters concerning the Walled City. The city was left to its own devices, and to develop, as Governor Sir Alexander Grantham described it, into “a cesspool of iniquity, with heroin divans, brothels, and everything unsavoury.”[v] The Kowloon Walled City began its transformation into the squalid enclave of vice for which it later became notorious.