Scars He Sees

A couple weeks ago I jumped on that train to Cambodia really needing to see God.  Not because I was going to be on my own for a few days before my friends arrived (I felt confident in His care), but rather because I had been feeling overwhelmed by all the lives around me that seemed to be forgotten by Him. I had so many questions, yet was challenged all the same to keep trusting, continue hoping, expecting God to move. But that is much easier to tell myself than to actually do, especially when I am looking at some really difficult situations, realizing I only see a fraction of the real picture. My time in Cambodia showed me even more need for God's work, but He also affirmed His presence even in the midst of all the darkness and pain. 

It all started off with a day of transit, catching a taxi, a train, my feet, a truck, a stranger’s personal vehicle, and a motorcycle to reach my destination in Siem Reap. And though I got locked out of my hotel room right before I had to race out to pick up my Half Marathon registration packet from some posh hotel across town, EVERYTHING worked out that day. God blessed my interactions with people: 1) from making some friends on the train by telling a joke in Thai (friends who proceeded to share green mango and fried worm/grub? with me), 2) to giving me a new Austrian friend to navigate the border crossing with, 3) to giving me a kind woman in Poipet to end my fruitless wanderings in search of a bus (she had a friend going to Siem Reap that night who was willing to take me along and drop me at my hostel), 4) to making a new friend over street dinner at 9pm who agreed to meet at 4:50am to bring me on his motorcycle to the race the following morning. God told me going into that trip that I wouldn’t be traveling alone, and He made good on His word in ways that I never could have predicted! The following morning He even provided me with a running buddy for about a third of the race, answering my prayers for a running buddy. 

The sunrise over Angkor Wat

 God directed me to the following verse at the start of the trip, reminding me of His presence and love even in the darkest situations:

“On this mountain He will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; He will remove the disgrace of His people from all the earth. The LORD has spoken.”-Is. 25:7-8

Beautiful countryside and MOUNTAINS!

Many blessings came through connections one of my friends has with local believers (my friends joined me the night of race day). I was not expecting to get to attend a Christmas outreach celebration hosted by a church group, teach English at a school they started in a small town (I found out we were teaching literally 1 or 2 minutes before I was standing in front of my new class of students), or get to worship with Cambodian brothers and sisters in their church. Turns out that the group of believing university students that we spent some time with in Phnom Penh loves to play Settlers of Catan, and the pastor we stayed with (from the USA) was willing to bring us with him to a traditional Khmer-Christian fusion wedding and share his 17-years-in-Cambodia-wisdom with us as we went, stopping by the ocean and a few villages along the way. I saw mountains for the first time since coming to Thailand (Bangkok is fresh outta mountains this time of year!), and we enjoyed drinking from a coconut as we walked down the beach. We also saw the village women who prostitute lounging in front of every shop along a specific street along our drive. We were warned against climbing a certain mountain because of dangerous men and probably land mines. We heard of extortion, of racism, of abuse. Of complicated situations in which girls are sold for their virginity, then used to gain benefits for being raped. Of good-willed organizations that perpetuate cycles of child neglect by trying to be the savior. And yet, the whole trip God was reminding me that He is indeed at work. That He does indeed see His creation and He cares deeply for it. He KNOWS where Cambodia's (and Thailand's) scars and present open wounds come from. I am reminded of Habakkuk’s prayer at the end of his book. Though there is no sign of God’s rescue in challenging situations, “YET I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” God is at work, whether we see it or not. Trusting His word, remembering how we ourselves are changed by His grace, and knowing that His ways are not our ways give us the ability to carry on in faith even in situations where He seems distant. 

Mid-ride selfie: biking 30+ kilometers around Angkor Wat

Hitching a ride with Cambodian believers to the Christmas celebration.

Walking Wet

There was no rain that day.  There had been no rain for at least a week. Yet there I walked dignified through the mall, trying to pretend like I wasn’t leaving the unmistakable trail of water behind me.  Trying to pretend like my clothes were supposed to look darker than usual, hang a little funny, and appear wet-- new fashion?  Yes, a glorious moment, made slightly more glorious by the fact that, with witnesses, I had just stepped off of a ledge into a pond next to the mall trying to blaze my own shortcut back to my bike through a way I had never gone before... On a dark night when the wind wasn’t providing the pond with any waves as warning, it looked just like a walkway.  Exiting through a shortcut was necessary because I was running late to a karaoke night (it's true...) held in a ministry-run coffee shop in the red light area I have been frequenting each week to help teach some young friends of ours who sell roses at night. I had only stopped in the building to use the bathroom. Those are my excuses.  My plunge into the knee-deep pond that caught me so off guard and soaked me up to my head had further irony:  the only thing I was carrying were a couple paper towels I had collected on my way out so that if I arrived at the coffee shop sweaty from biking over, I would be able to dry myself off a bit, look more respectable.  They did nothing for me. I'm sure I made several people's days by taking that plunge, and I certainly made mine-- laughing to myself the whole way out of the building afterwards (further reinforcing the crazy foreigner stereotype).

When I met up with my friends after getting back to my bike and heading to the coffee shop, I was still soaked.  I couldn’t wait to tell them why I was so wet—to get to laugh with them at my failed unintentional attempt at walking on water.  I found there is nothing quite like pushing through busy streets, sitting in a coffee shop, and singing karaoke (some good ol' Lion King-- Zazuu sounded especially hornbillish that night) in front of a small crowd when your entire outfit is telling the story of absent weather.

God has been putting rain on my heart lately.  This is tied to expectancy, to faith, to hope.  I recently finished the book “Tread Upon the Lion” by Sophie DeHaye about a pioneering missionary to Nigeria, Tommie Titcombe.  Tommie shares about a time when they had no rain in the land for a long time— food was scarce for everyone.  Finally, each religious sect started performing rituals to bring the rain.  The animists performing ceremonies and sacrifices to appease the spirits, the Muslims calling out to Allah, everyone pouring everything they had into cries that they hoped would reach the ears of a god who cared and could answer.  No rain.  Finally, the believers in the village decided that they should hold a prayer service and make an appeal to God on behalf of their community.  When the appointed time came, amidst the ridicule of their neighbors, the believers all showed up to the service wearing their umbrella hats in expectation of the coming rain! As they started praying, drops from the sky started falling. Louder and louder the noise became, drowning out the voices of the worshipping believers. They had come before God with assurance that He would hear them and answer. What faith! I am very challenged by this story, by their simple trust that God would provide. While His faithfulness is not shackled to answering our prayers the way we expect, He does love us and will not forsake us (2 Timothy 2:13 says though we are faithless, He will remain faithful—it is in His immutable nature). 

Which brings me back to my story of falling into mall ponds.  I’ve been thinking about what it looks like for us to share God’s love with people who have never known how to perceive it for themselves.  People who feel as if they have never been loved, especially by God. Sometimes all we can do is sit with someone and hear them.  Not try to offer answers and solutions, but when they ask, relay the message to those living in drought that rain exists. We can share the account of why we are drenched in dry season. Maybe walking wet through crowds of people isn’t so bad after all (but seriously-- go try it!). Wearing an umbrella hat with no clouds in the sky likewise shares a story, and an expectation of the seemingly impossible. I have been praying that I will wear my umbrella hat each day, going in faith that God hears His people’s cries—no matter how hopeless a situation may appear. Social injustice is overwhelming. And yet, God sees and sends His rain in His own time and way; He has been faithful before and He will be faithful again.