We had an amazing trip to Cambodia. Southwest Airlines is hands down the best airline that we fly inside of the United States. The lady at the check-in asked where we were going with our unusual luggage and when I told her, she asked if we wanted our parents to go to the gate with us. She then gave us a pass so that Kristen's mom and dad and my dad could walk us all the way to the gate. Not to mention the free bags they allow you, always fly Southwest if given the option.
We arrived in Cambodia after 23 flight hours fresh and ready to take on the world. We arrived at midnight, so we spent the night in Phnom Penh. Vutha took us the next day to buy two motorcycles (can't live in Cambodia without them). Needless to say, Sterling was excited about getting his Honda AX1 250. He will be sharing with Kristen while Benjamin and I will be riding the other one.
After spending a long, hot day in Phnom Penh, we drove down to Kampot. Vutha was following on one of the motorcycles and I was driving the orphanage truck. Right as we left, it started raining. Now driving in the rain in the states can be a hassle, but here, it can be dangerous, especially when your windshield wipers don't work. So, our three and a half hour drive turned into a five and a half hour drive. I am still not sure why we did that, but between the jetlag and rain, it is the grace of God that we arrived.
Our first few days in Kampot were tiring, but wonderful. Our first service at Hosanna was encouraging. We shared communion together and just to look at all of the Khmer brothers and sisters sitting there and thinking how diverse heaven will be oneday brought a smile to my face. I am so grateful for the blood of Jesus that brings every tribe, tongue, nation and people together under His Lordship. That afternoon I went to a cell group where former enemies from the war sat together fellowshipping because of Prince of Peace.
As always, seeing the children at Heritage House humbles us. To see what this society views as worthless, not only surviving, but thriving, is amazing. God truly is the Father to the fatherless. He takes those that the world disregards and sets them in places of honor. Kristen comes alive when she is at Heritage House. The boys were really excited to see their old friends and to play with them also.
During the week we reconnected with some missionary friends here and met some new ones. We went to a cell group of ex-pats this past Sunday. It is exciting to see what God is doing with the diverse groups here. We meet a French brother and he offered us his guest house for the week until we move to house sit for another couple. He lives on the river and we have had a great time. The boys get up and get school done so they can swim. This morning we took a swim before school started.
We are having trouble finding a house for our family. We have the house sit for two months before the couple returns and trust that a house will open up for us by then.
This afternoon, Vutha and I are taking the Heritage House kids swimming and fishing. I assume the much more of the former. I praise God for His faithfulness! I am really excited about all that the next few years will hold for the nation of Cambodia. I sense great things are around the corner.
Thank you for your prayers!
Servant of a Passionate God
Lewis Burke
Rom 8:31
Kampot, Cambodia
Monday, November 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Passion for Souls
Something happened to me in a tent in the Middle East in 1991. I cannot explain it in words really. I just knew that Jesus was real and that I wanted everyone that I came into contact with to know Him. It was not just a wanting, but a burden.
After the war, my enlistment was up and I left the Air Force and went to college. My first two years were at Walter's State in Morristown, TN. I had two goals entering every class; first, to tell everyone in the classroom about Jesus and secondly, to make an A in that class. Well, at least the first one I was able to accomplish. I carried a backpack full of tracts. I had a tract for every occasion. I promise you, everyone in that school knew who the crazy Jesus guy was.
Since that time, I have had many opportunities to share Jesus with others. I have been in many countries sharing the love of Christ and have shared Him here in the states. However, as the years have gone by, I lost the backpack. I put the tracts up and used methods less brash.
A few years ago, our friends from a neighboring country in S.E. Asia came to visit us in Cambodia. Their country is a closed country. This family has known hardship when it comes to serving Jesus. Many of their family members have been imprisoned for the sake of Christ. They live under constant threat of being caught as Church leaders and being put in prison themselves.
While they were visiting us, we took them to visit a school that our friends ran. As we were taking a tour of the school, a man from their country was there. He worked as a general maintenance man for the school. During the war, he could not handle all of the things that he was required to do, so he deserted the army. He was living in Cambodia as a traitor to his country.
For two days, our visiting friends were such an encouragement to us. We had prayed together, had wonderful fellowship and enjoyed our time together. What happened after meeting this man at the school forever changed my life though. The lady who was visiting us, saw the man and went after him. She asked him his story, why he was in Cambodia, and what his life was like. He shared his entire story, as she stood listening intently. When he was finished telling his story, she said, "I forgive you for deserting our country." She then went on, with tears in her eyes, to tell him about Another who would forgive him if he asked. She stood, with tears rolling down her face, telling him about the love of Jesus Christ.
She had the burden. Love, passion, desire, and boldness, they all came out of her. It was the love of God for a lost soul flooding out of her as she shared about Jesus. When we left, she did not come back to the house for fellowship, she went to her room to pray for that man's soul. She was not going to let go with a simple, "Jesus loves you." She was going to storm heaven until that man was rescued from hell.
I don't know if I will pick up the backpack full of tracts again or not, but I do know that I will never worry about being comfortable when telling others about Jesus. He is worth talking about and He loves the lost. I will, by His grace, share with everyone that He allows me to. I pray that I will love as my S.E. Asian sister does - loving God and loving man.
In case you are wondering what the lost think about us Christians, take a look at this clip:
After the war, my enlistment was up and I left the Air Force and went to college. My first two years were at Walter's State in Morristown, TN. I had two goals entering every class; first, to tell everyone in the classroom about Jesus and secondly, to make an A in that class. Well, at least the first one I was able to accomplish. I carried a backpack full of tracts. I had a tract for every occasion. I promise you, everyone in that school knew who the crazy Jesus guy was.
Since that time, I have had many opportunities to share Jesus with others. I have been in many countries sharing the love of Christ and have shared Him here in the states. However, as the years have gone by, I lost the backpack. I put the tracts up and used methods less brash.
A few years ago, our friends from a neighboring country in S.E. Asia came to visit us in Cambodia. Their country is a closed country. This family has known hardship when it comes to serving Jesus. Many of their family members have been imprisoned for the sake of Christ. They live under constant threat of being caught as Church leaders and being put in prison themselves.
While they were visiting us, we took them to visit a school that our friends ran. As we were taking a tour of the school, a man from their country was there. He worked as a general maintenance man for the school. During the war, he could not handle all of the things that he was required to do, so he deserted the army. He was living in Cambodia as a traitor to his country.
For two days, our visiting friends were such an encouragement to us. We had prayed together, had wonderful fellowship and enjoyed our time together. What happened after meeting this man at the school forever changed my life though. The lady who was visiting us, saw the man and went after him. She asked him his story, why he was in Cambodia, and what his life was like. He shared his entire story, as she stood listening intently. When he was finished telling his story, she said, "I forgive you for deserting our country." She then went on, with tears in her eyes, to tell him about Another who would forgive him if he asked. She stood, with tears rolling down her face, telling him about the love of Jesus Christ.
She had the burden. Love, passion, desire, and boldness, they all came out of her. It was the love of God for a lost soul flooding out of her as she shared about Jesus. When we left, she did not come back to the house for fellowship, she went to her room to pray for that man's soul. She was not going to let go with a simple, "Jesus loves you." She was going to storm heaven until that man was rescued from hell.
I don't know if I will pick up the backpack full of tracts again or not, but I do know that I will never worry about being comfortable when telling others about Jesus. He is worth talking about and He loves the lost. I will, by His grace, share with everyone that He allows me to. I pray that I will love as my S.E. Asian sister does - loving God and loving man.
In case you are wondering what the lost think about us Christians, take a look at this clip:
Pray for me and I will pray for you. "May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His suffering!"
Servant of a Passionate God
Lewis Burke
Rom 8:31
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Fighting with the Monks!
When had been in Cambodia about six months or so when I went out to visit our friend's family. Lyda had been living with us for most of the time that we had lived in Cambodia and we had been out to visit her family a few times. They live in Kampong Cham province. It was one of the 50 Khmer holidays (Second most in the world I am told. I wish I knew who had more) and she was back in the village visiting her family.
Her village is about two hours on a paved road and three hours on a dirt road. I was excited to get out in the countryside and spend some time by myself on the motorcycle. The directions to Lyda's village are quite strange. After you pass the Muslim complex on the paved road, take the first right dirt road. On that road, go straight until you hit the Mekong River. Take the boat across the river and stay straight on the dirt road until you go through the little section of wooden houses and take the first left. After the left, you go for an hour or so, following the river until you see a little village area, at the tallest coconut tree, look for the really small dirt road and turn right on it. You run right into their house a little ways up that road.
I love Lyda's family. Her father used to stay with us whenever he visited Phnom Penh. He is one of those wise old farmers who knows just about everything there is to know about living off of the land. Everytime he came and stayed at our house, he asked to watch the Jesus film. He loves that movie. As a matter of fact, when his wife was old enough to shave her head and go serve at the pagado, he said no. He had decided that Jesus was the real thing, so he did not want his wife serving at the Buddhist place of worship. It caused a real stir among the village elders, but he held strong. There are no Churches in his village, or even within three hours or so, but he still felt like Jesus was the true God, so he was willing to serve Him the best that he could out there in Kampong Cham.
While visiting Lyda's family, I heard that the neighbor next door had suffered a stroke. Lyda asked me to go and pray for him. As we walked into the house, there were 10 Buddhist monks sitting all around the man, fanning and chanting so that when he died, his spirit would blow out of the area not haunt the village. The man was lying on the floor with his wife sitting beside him. He had a pool of spit running down his face and chin. I have been in alot of situations that seemed hopeless, but I am not sure that I had ever been in one like this.
I laid hands on the man and began to pray. Of course, being the great man of faith that I am, I started out the prayer something like this, "Oh Lord, if it be your will, please help this man's family after he dies, etc." It was the weakest prayer that I could have prayed in the moment because I was intimiated. However, as I prayed, faith began to rise up in me. My arms began to burn and I knew that God was going to heal this man. I started to pray in true faith and proclaim that Jesus Christ was Lord of the situation and that He was healing this man. I began to shout out the prayer and as I did, the monks began to shout louder. Pretty soon we were in a shouting contest. My prayers to the living God and theirs to demon spirits. It was like something in the old testament being lived out right before my eyes.
I really knew that God was healing this man and that he was going to be alright. I was afraid to open my eyes, but told Lyda to tell the man and his wife that Jesus Christ, the true God, was healing his body and that when he was well, he was to give his heart to Christ and serve Him. I slowing opened my eyes expecting the man to jump up and testify. When I opened my eyes, the man had not changed at all. He lay on the floor, drool sliding down his chin, not able to speak.
I left the village right after that for my long, lonely ride back to Phnom Penh. I cried all the way, feeling like I had disgraced the name of Jesus. I wrestled with the thoughts that now the entire village would think that Jesus is not real, but merely another weak god. I told the Lord that I would contact our home Church and let them know that we would be returning to the states because I was a failure as a missionary. I begged God to forgive me and to send people back to the village who could proclaim the gospel effectively.
When I got back to Phnom Penh, Lyda called from her village. She told me that when I was gone about two hours, the man had gotten up. He was totally healed and had his wife fix him something to eat. The monks had all left. The man could talk, his speach was clear, his body was fine, and they wanted me to come back out there. I went back out the next day and the man and his wife gave their hearts to Jesus. They told me how their children had left for Phnom Penh and never came back to visit them. How they were lonely and had noone to help them on the farm. They rejoiced to hear the amazing news about Jesus dying for their sins and gladly received Him.
I learned alot on that trip. Mainly, that God really does love people and that He can use anyone to deliever the message of His Son. Even us faithless, at times, missionaries. That He is the same yesterday, today and forever. That He can heal those in hopeless situations. That we do not war against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, rulers of darkness, and spiritual hosts of wickedness (Eph. 6:12). I was not fighting monks, I was fighting a demonic system that wants to enslave the Khmer people.
God is moving in that little village in Kampong Cham. We have prayed for years for a Khmer pastor to be raised up and sent out to plant a Church there. The field is ripe, the laborers are few. We are praying to the Lord of the Harvest to send out laborers into that field (Matt. 9:37-38). We are also praying for a real move among the "spiritual" leaders in Cambodia. That God would reveal Jesus to the 50,000 monks working in Cambodia.
Her village is about two hours on a paved road and three hours on a dirt road. I was excited to get out in the countryside and spend some time by myself on the motorcycle. The directions to Lyda's village are quite strange. After you pass the Muslim complex on the paved road, take the first right dirt road. On that road, go straight until you hit the Mekong River. Take the boat across the river and stay straight on the dirt road until you go through the little section of wooden houses and take the first left. After the left, you go for an hour or so, following the river until you see a little village area, at the tallest coconut tree, look for the really small dirt road and turn right on it. You run right into their house a little ways up that road.
I love Lyda's family. Her father used to stay with us whenever he visited Phnom Penh. He is one of those wise old farmers who knows just about everything there is to know about living off of the land. Everytime he came and stayed at our house, he asked to watch the Jesus film. He loves that movie. As a matter of fact, when his wife was old enough to shave her head and go serve at the pagado, he said no. He had decided that Jesus was the real thing, so he did not want his wife serving at the Buddhist place of worship. It caused a real stir among the village elders, but he held strong. There are no Churches in his village, or even within three hours or so, but he still felt like Jesus was the true God, so he was willing to serve Him the best that he could out there in Kampong Cham.
While visiting Lyda's family, I heard that the neighbor next door had suffered a stroke. Lyda asked me to go and pray for him. As we walked into the house, there were 10 Buddhist monks sitting all around the man, fanning and chanting so that when he died, his spirit would blow out of the area not haunt the village. The man was lying on the floor with his wife sitting beside him. He had a pool of spit running down his face and chin. I have been in alot of situations that seemed hopeless, but I am not sure that I had ever been in one like this.
I laid hands on the man and began to pray. Of course, being the great man of faith that I am, I started out the prayer something like this, "Oh Lord, if it be your will, please help this man's family after he dies, etc." It was the weakest prayer that I could have prayed in the moment because I was intimiated. However, as I prayed, faith began to rise up in me. My arms began to burn and I knew that God was going to heal this man. I started to pray in true faith and proclaim that Jesus Christ was Lord of the situation and that He was healing this man. I began to shout out the prayer and as I did, the monks began to shout louder. Pretty soon we were in a shouting contest. My prayers to the living God and theirs to demon spirits. It was like something in the old testament being lived out right before my eyes.
I really knew that God was healing this man and that he was going to be alright. I was afraid to open my eyes, but told Lyda to tell the man and his wife that Jesus Christ, the true God, was healing his body and that when he was well, he was to give his heart to Christ and serve Him. I slowing opened my eyes expecting the man to jump up and testify. When I opened my eyes, the man had not changed at all. He lay on the floor, drool sliding down his chin, not able to speak.
I left the village right after that for my long, lonely ride back to Phnom Penh. I cried all the way, feeling like I had disgraced the name of Jesus. I wrestled with the thoughts that now the entire village would think that Jesus is not real, but merely another weak god. I told the Lord that I would contact our home Church and let them know that we would be returning to the states because I was a failure as a missionary. I begged God to forgive me and to send people back to the village who could proclaim the gospel effectively.
When I got back to Phnom Penh, Lyda called from her village. She told me that when I was gone about two hours, the man had gotten up. He was totally healed and had his wife fix him something to eat. The monks had all left. The man could talk, his speach was clear, his body was fine, and they wanted me to come back out there. I went back out the next day and the man and his wife gave their hearts to Jesus. They told me how their children had left for Phnom Penh and never came back to visit them. How they were lonely and had noone to help them on the farm. They rejoiced to hear the amazing news about Jesus dying for their sins and gladly received Him.
I learned alot on that trip. Mainly, that God really does love people and that He can use anyone to deliever the message of His Son. Even us faithless, at times, missionaries. That He is the same yesterday, today and forever. That He can heal those in hopeless situations. That we do not war against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, rulers of darkness, and spiritual hosts of wickedness (Eph. 6:12). I was not fighting monks, I was fighting a demonic system that wants to enslave the Khmer people.
God is moving in that little village in Kampong Cham. We have prayed for years for a Khmer pastor to be raised up and sent out to plant a Church there. The field is ripe, the laborers are few. We are praying to the Lord of the Harvest to send out laborers into that field (Matt. 9:37-38). We are also praying for a real move among the "spiritual" leaders in Cambodia. That God would reveal Jesus to the 50,000 monks working in Cambodia.
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