Saturday, July 5, 2008
The God of the Custard Apple
Saturday, June 28, 2008
God's fingerprints...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The God of the Dragonfruit
On Sabbath after spending a week at the Nonthonburi church plant teaching English, and visiting some of the neighbors and students, I worshipped with the pastor and teacher who run the center. The little sanctuary was on the third floor of their narrow apartment. I am continually amazed at how many people are packed into this city. Four of us worshipped together. The work is slow in Bangkok because to be Thai is to be Buddhists, and they often risk being shunned if they express interest. God is working here, however.
This past weekend I had to leave Thailand since I only had a 30 day visa. My dear friend, Grace, is a student missionary in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, so the Lord allowed me to go there to spend time with her and her fellow workers.
Ahhh... I never realized what a country girl I am until I've spent a month and a half in the city buried in the city. Instead of being restricted to breathing deeply near every concreted-surrounded tree or gazing longingly at the few parks I've driven past, I was able to be immersed in nature again.
We traveled four hours outside the capital to Vang Vien - a popular place for adventurous European backpackers. High limestone mountains cloaked in wispy clouds jutted from the earth. A brown swirling river cut through a few of those mountains. Networks of caves pierced their insides. We took kayak/canoe things down the river one day, paddling next to fishermen, traditional bamboo-woven houses, and the majestic mountains.
On Sabbath we went caving, slipping and sliding in all the water and slime, praying the tight spot where the water was up to our next and the ceiling was nearly touching our heads wouldn't fill up with water by the time we turned around.
On Sunday we took a stroll through the rice paddies, to the annoyance of many boney cows in our way. I was refreshed. I was revived. A Lao lady literally attacked my muscles during my $5 traditional Lao massage.
We rode in the back of a pickup truck on the four hour drive back with a chicken, several giant bundles of bananas, and various Lao travelers. Black smoke billowed out of the bus in front of us straight into our lungs for a good portion of the way.
My time here in southeast Asia is so short, and just as I start building relationships with people, I am uprooted and moved to the next center. As I get attached to people easily, this has been difficult, because I want to hang onto them. How can I bring them with me to the kingdom of Heaven after such a short time together? What is my purpose here in Thailand again?
"Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were pleading through us." 2 Corinthians 5:20 Yes, this is my purpose, to accurately represent Christ to people who've never experienced Him before. The task is daunting; I have been shown time and time again that my character is far from perfectly reflecting Christ's. I can't bring them with me to church each week, I can't convince them to risk estrangement from their families by converting, I can't change their hearts. All I can do is be an ambassador, to plant a seed in their heart and to reflect the love of a God who is waiting for them with open arms.
Dragonfruit's taste is not what makes me eat them. It's their irresistable color.
Friday, May 30, 2008
The God of the Durian
Rotten eggs, sewage waste, putrid raw onions, full babies’ diapers. All these words can be used to describe the most peculiar of fruits – durian. Durian is called the king’s fruit, but by the look and smell of the thing, it’s a wonder humans ever figured out it was ok to eat! Many buses don’t allow them, because even when carefully packaged, their odor has a way of making its presence known. Thais are very proud of this fruit, and many ask me if I like it. I respond with “Mmm… durian is a special fruit, isn’t it?” I can tolerate its soft fleshy casing and smooth custard filling only in minute amounts.
Last week I stayed at Hope for Bangkok’s English school/church plant Udom Suk, in the heart of the city. It’s a few doors down from the walled-off slums on one side, and a brothel on the other. Poor little church plant; it’s really struggling. I lived there at the center with the Thai pastor and his family, and a Filipino helper/teacher.
Wet means clean to southeast Asians, therefore TP, napkins, and papertowels are extremely hard to come by. I spent the nights sweltering on the ceramic tile floor in 13-year-old Fah’s third-story bedroom. I’ve never actually wondered if my brain was getting so hot that my proteins might be starting to denature!
During the weekdays I’ve helped teach English and visit some neighbors. I teach the kids English, they teach me Thai. As the Thai language is based on intonation and therefore each sound has five different ways to be accented, I’m struggling.
On the weekends I’ve visited some of Bangkok’s splendors. One day a Thai pastor took me to the Grand Palace. Gold leafing sparkles on the spires and statues, elaborate paintings grace various walls. The intricate and colorful designs that filled every nook and cranny of the grounds testify of the value Buddhists place on beauty.
This past week I’ve been at another English school/church plant – Nonthonburi. The 9:00AM class of 40-something year old ladies have captured my heart. They banter and laugh and are so much fun to be around. On Wednesday a few of them rented a van to take me sight-seeing. Food is important to Thais, therefore, we ate continuously. Everywhere we went, they each found different foods to buy, and insisted I tried everything – from seaweed-flavored potato chips to coconut juice to strange rice-based pastries.
They paid for everything, including entrance fees, which are over 5 times more for farangs (foreigners). They knew little English, but bought me trinkets, shielded me from oncoming motorcycles, took pictures with me, and showered me with love. The Thai pastor warned me not to pay for anything, but to thankfully accept the things they do and buy for me. To refuse would greatly offend. Since I hate to feel beholden to anyone, this is extremely difficult for me, as I feel there is nothing I can do or give that could repay them. In response to this comment, the Thai pastor asked, “What? And you call yourself a Christian? That’s what grace is!”
Simply put, durian stinks. And frankly, so do I. The Thais have been a far greater blessing to me than I have been to them. I’ve really been pondering lately what it takes for someone to become a Christian, and how these ladies could be so kind and loving and not know Jesus personally. My most convincing arguments could never win someone to Jesus. My best attempts to weave Jesus into English lessons could never intrigue anyone enough to make them totally revamp their life. It’s not me to do the transforming, it’s God. He only asks that I am willing to obey. Durian’s smell could never convince anyone to eat it. Once a taste for it is cultivated, however, it becomes a treasured delicacy.
"All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away." Isaiah 64:6
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The God of the Mangosteen
Mangosteen are called the queen’s fruit here in Thailand. They are small and round and purple, with four round green leaves circling a green stem on top. A thick fibrous shell encases soft, slimy white wedges of pure juicy sweetness. They are rich and delicious and in season now.
Last week I spent learning from Dr. Nick, the only American missionary doctor in
The Thais are special people, for sure. They are very kind and friendly, valuing humility and community. To convey acknowledgment, the head is bowed, with the hands held in a praying position pressed close to the nose. This is accompanied by a “Sa wa dee kah!” The city of
The curly-cue Thai script graces each store front and street sign. Most Thais, unfortunately don’t know English, despite the fact they’ve studied it every single year in school. Bright colored taxis zip through the always jam-packed roads. Motorcycles dart in between cars, and each time I cross the road, I narrowly miss becoming roadkill.
The king’s face looks down from each place of business, and some kind of shrine to Buddha or the spirits quietly whispers of the souls that need to hear the Good News.
As if it’s not hot enough outside, Thais love to fill their mouths with burning infernos of chili peppers. When ordering food at the cafeteria, I always question, “Spicy?” to which they answer, “No.” After the first bite, I notice the little red chilies.
Yesterday I went on a mobile clinic to a prison in the former capital,
One-third of the world has no contact with Christians. Did we peck away at that one-third a little yesterday? I’d never spoken the name of Jesus to someone who’d never heard it before. The magnitude of this privilege sends shivers down my spine.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
The God of the Rambutan
The Venns showered me with tastes of Heaven - a clean, spacious place to live, plenty of food, books, and more. I am so thankful to God for them.