One Woman's Faith

I stood uneasily as the wooden floor beneath me creaked.  It was hot and sweat was dripping off of everyone in the room.  I looked around the room at this ragtag bunch of misfits.  Here we stood, the banana farmer,  the village mid-wife, the cook, the pastor, the single mother, and the missionary.  I looked at the woman lying on the bed and knew that unless God did a miracle, that she would be dead soon.  We stood, worshipped the One who knew her suffering more than anyone, laid hands on her, prayed for healing, cried, whispered words of love and encouragement from the scriptures to her, and left the room quietly to let her rest.  She was a young believer in Jesus, a mother, a nurse, and a survivor.  She had lived through the Khmer Rouge, she had survived the rebuilding of the nation.  But here she lay dying of cervical cancer.  Her husband had left her and her children years ago to take another wife. 

She represented to me the young Khmer Church.  The struggles that she faced I see daily in the Church in Cambodia.  She had given her heart to the Lord several years ago while a group of people met with a missionary weekly for one year.  After the missionary was unable to meet with the group anymore, her faith waivered and she returned to her former ways.  She was going to the pagoda again.  Offering sacrifices to the spirits.  Her life was filled with the terrible knowledge of knowing the truth and yet, rejecting it for a lie (Rom. 1:22-23).  She was trying desperately to make sense of life, to survive, and to take care of her children and now her grandchildren. 

When Vutha moved to Kampot, the group contacted him and asked if he could start meeting with the  few who remained.  For two years he has been meeting with the small “water fall” cell group.  The group remains small, but it is growing in the knowledge of Christ (Eph.  1:17).  After the group was meeting again and being strengthened, the lady asked if she could return to join them.  She was embarrassed that she had been so easily pulled away from pursuing the Lord and felt that she had failed when there was no one around to encourage her in her walk.  The group eagerly embraced her, loved on her, and rejoiced at her return.  She was still weak in her faith, like all of us, but she was growing.  She had been back for almost a year.

Five days after I stood with the brothers and sisters at the foot of the bed, our sister went to be with the Lord.  When I got the phone call, I cried.  It was a blow to all of us.  I did not cry because she was dead, I knew she was now with the Lord.  I cried for her family.  She was the only Christian in her family.  Her children demanded a traditional Buddhist funeral and refused to let Vutha speak or share the gospel.  They feared that it might bring bad luck to the family if Christians were involved in the service. 

Vutha visited the family after the funeral and shared the Hope that their mother and grandmother had.  He, once again, shared the gospel with the family as he has many times in the past.  I am thankful that to have known this woman.  Her struggle was our struggle, her strength was our strength, and her Lord is our Lord.  I am so thankful that we do not have to mourn her death as others do.  Though her body sleeps; she lives with her Savior!  Pray for the family to know her Savior and for the young believers here to be strengthened.

“But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep,  lest you sorrow as other who have no hope.  For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus.”  1 Thess. 4:13-14

God of the Hopeless

I pulled out of my gate at 6:30 this morning and saw him ambling down the street a quarter kilometer away.  It is impossible to miss his silhouette.  Head down, shoulders slumped, and unshaven; he walks on as he does every day.   His feet shuffle down the dirt road with the familiar pat, pat, pat of flip flops hitting the dirt and rocks.  As I pass him, he refuses to look up, to make eye contact, or to acknowledge my presence in any way.  His clothes are familiar; I have only seen him in two, possibly three different shirts.  Today it is the dirty, green stripped button up with the small hole in the shoulder.

His look is the same that I see all over the city as I go about my day.  It is the look of a man who is hopeless. 

He and I are alike in so many ways.  We both have two sons that we dream will grow and become men with a future.  We both have a wife that we want to provide for, to take care of, and want to shower with love and affection.  Our wives are both spiritual people. 

We also are very different.  He has not job or source of income.  He gets up daily with no plan other than to hope that someone will ask him to help them and that he can get enough money to buy food for the day.  I get up with a full day and more than I can accomplish on my plate.  His sons are undersized for their age.  Mine are normal and non-descript by most standards.  His wife is a soothsayer. She is paid to summon dead ancestors, to predict the future, and to cast spells on people.  My wife is a Godly woman who people seek out for guidance, affirmation, and prayer. 

The most obvious difference in our lives is that his wife is HIV positive.  Without a miracle, she will be dead in a few years from a disease that has the potential to more damage to Cambodia that Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge ever did.  She knows she is dead, the children know that she is dying, and her husband knows all too well that the situation is hopeless.

I pray for him often.  I ache when I see his face.  I see one man among thousands enduring the same fate in this nation.  God sees every one of them.  His Son is Hope; the only Hope that my neighbor has.  I pray that his hopelessness will turn to hope in the resurrected Christ.    

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,”   1 Peter 1:3

Missionary Vision

“Missionary work is church work. It is not a steady stream of glamorous and exciting events, but a slow and steady perseverance in preaching, teaching, evangelizing, and shepherding. ”

Brad White

I took a test before we moved back to Cambodia. It was one of those tests that tell you what your strengths are and how to use those strengths to encourage others. I enjoyed the test and really enjoyed my time with the couple who taught our team. Mark and Melissa Medley, if you are reading this, thanks for taking the time to meet with us and guide us through maze. The test listed your top five strengths and helped you focus on using those things that are natural to you and how not be frustrated by the gifts and strengths that you do not have. Instead of being frustrated by your lack, build on your personal strengths and "staff your own weaknesses."

My top strength was "context." Simply put it means that you learn from the past, yours and others, and view the future through past events. It helps you avoid pitfalls that others have made and to see things that worked and to apply those things to your present situation. The test really helped me understand my personality and probably explains why I was a history major in college. So, the following is my thoughts through the "context lens" of missions; past and present.

I have a great burden for the Church and for the lost. I ache to see the Kingdom of God established in the nations of the earth. While I appreciate the heart and desire of many Churches in western nations to send missionaries and teams to the far reaches of the earth, I am wondering if we ever stop to evaluate the results. Do we stop to listen to the foreign missionaries who have lived on the field for years or to the indigenous brothers and sisters to see what the real needs are. Is our missions for the glory of Christ or for our own selfish gain? Does our going really just make us feel good, or are we going for His name to be lifted up? Do we go to the nations to "teach the heathen," or do we go because we have heard the heavenly calling and must obey it? Are we sent as a part of the Body of Christ or are we on our own mission?

If it is so easy to go and have hundreds or possibly thousands of conversions in a few days, then why is the whole earth not turned to Christ yet? If is it so easy in foreign fields, why are those numbers not reflected in western nations? I am amazed at what I read on social networking sites from people who have only visited a country for a few days, do not know anything at all of the culture of the people, and yet are able to have 1,700 people get "saved" in a week. I do not doubt the sincerity of those who post these things or that they really believe them. However, does the scripture not show us that the greatest missionary who ever lived, Jesus Christ, took time to be with the people and live among them (Matt. 1:23)? Why do we think we can take a shortcut, avoid any real disappointment, discouragement, and disillusionment, and be back in our native land eating in our comfortable homes leaving the long process of discipleship to a few of the "called ones" who have to live with the "savage" peoples? Does anyone ever stop to ask how many times these people have been "saved" and yet, they still worship idols?

Don't get me wrong, I am called to a "savage" land. I want to disciple the people of S.E. Asia. I have ministered in the west and I know there are many disappointments and difficult times there. I do not envy my pastor friends in America, Canada, and Scotland who have to shepherd the people of those lands. I am merely asking, no, begging, when you come for a short term trip, come to serve. Come to learn as much as come to teach. You have much to offer, but you also have much to learn. As Derek Prince said, "God gave you two ears, but only one mouth." Listen to what God is showing the people working there and come to serve that vision.

I have read and heard of reports of the mission agencies stating the numbers of converts in certain parts of the world. Many times when those numbers are added up and totaled together, the numbers of converts often are three times higher than the population of the nation. When you talk to missionaries living and working in those nations, it is obvious that the numbers of true converts do not match the numbers posted by the various agencies. Are our numbers more important than the true work of God?

I am not saying that short term missions is not important to the vision of the local Church and to the missionaries themselves. I am simply saying that in scripture and in Church history, the way that nations are won for Christ is when a group of people (Paul, Barnabas, Silas, Timothy, Hudson Taylor, Gladys Aylward, William Carey, Amy Carmichael, James Fraser, Adoniram Judson,etc.) go to a city/nation, live there, and share the gospel. In modern history, 17th century on, it usually takes 50 to 100 years of constant missionary involvement from a group of people before the gospel takes root among the local population. By living and dying there, they build up national leadership that then grows the Church.

Most of the great missionary "hero's" of the past would not make it in today's missionary climate. Many of them saw little fruit in their lifetimes. But by their faithful sowing, a harvest has been reaped in the nations where they served. The "Lamb that was slain is receiving the reward of His suffering" because they refused to be moved from the vision that was given to them. They suffered beyond what most of us could imagine. They buried wives and children in foreign lands and yet endured for His glory to be revealed to the people.

The quote at the beginning of this blog says perfectly what I am trying to communicate, "Missionary work is...a slow and steady perseverance in preaching, teaching, evangelizing, and shepherding." I pray that the western Church has the patience and willingness to endure to see a glorious bride prepared for Christ.