***narrative***
It’s my ‘vacation’ and I’m in Manila, Philippines- the motherland. Manila is the major metropolitan city in all of Philippines. It’s just like Bangkok, but definitely not as clean and ten times less safe.
I’m staying at my organization’s office, which has to be locked by an additional heavy metal door and three locks. Our office here has a bedroom on the second floor where I sleep at night and have been waking up every morning at 6 am because of noisy traffic on the street. The place is just walking distance from some of the city’s major malls, a convenience store and a basketball gym. Needless to say its location is not just comfortable- it’s exceptionally convenient. Come to find it my residency here could be divine.
Today I was looking through the glass door and across the street and I saw some kids playing basketball. Filipinos love to hoop. I miss the game a lot so I went over there to watch them play, and I was a little nervous (this was the Filipino hood and I didn't want to get robbed). There were about 8 of them in a small area probably just 20-25 sq feet. They all were shirtless and playing barefoot. I stood off to the side and watched. Trying to be inconspicuous, I listened to the ball's rythm against the ground and its' clang against the backboard. I could feel the "itch" starting up inside of me. I felt it- the insatiable desire to play. I couldn't help it. I had to scratch it. They had finished their game and some guys were eying me, muttering to each other in Tagalog.
"Can I shoot one?" I asked. I stepped forward and into the middle of the tiny court.
"Yea," they said. I touched the ball and felt its grip on my hand. I pressed my palm against the dirt and the rubber, and took a shot. Net. The sound was like fluidity for my soul. I missed this game. I looked over at the Filipinos sitting down at the side. They had just finished playing.
"Isa-pa," I said putting my finger in the air with a sense of challenge. Isa-pa, the word meant "one more" in Tagalog.
They all got excited and started yelling out. "Welcome to the hood! Welcome to the hood!" They all started pelvic thrusting in a motion that was likely imitating some rap video they had seen on tv.
"You can play one-on-one," said one of the taller guys. He prodded one of the youths forward. From watching them play, I knew he was their best player, but I savored the challenge. Later on this week, a friend of mine was going to do me a favor and contact his nephew who was an agent for some imported pro basketball players in Manila. Since, I was trying to run with some pros, I needed to remember how to play the game.
James was shoeless and shirtless, wearing just a pair of boxers. The rim was smaller, the ground was unlevel but it was still basketball. And I love basketball.
Even though I was on the other side of the world, I knew the rules of hoops on the street. On the street it’s not about making money. It's not even about winning. More than anything, it's about gaining respect. We played a game to 11 while the others watched, color commentating in Tagalog. I could see some of the older Filipinos peaking through their doors- just watching keenly.
I finished the game with a spinning fade away on the left baseline (or concrete wall).
"Good game man," I told James, extending my hand.
"Good game," he said taking my hand. I had got it. Respect.
"Hey you're welcome here man!” said one Filipino. “We play here everyday. Come to the hood and play!"
The guys started asking me questions while James went inside to get me a drink of water. Using a mix of Tagalog and English (I'm poor at speaking the language) I told them I was a missionary from Bangkok and that I missed basketball because in Thailand all they have is Muay Thai. For fear of getting robbed, I didn't tell them I lived right across the street, and neither did I tell them I was born in America. I told them I was from Quezon City, which was actually the part of Manila where my father grew up.
"Do you drink wine?" they asked.
"Siempre," I said with a smile. "But only two or three. I don't get drunk."
"Do you smoke weed?"
"I'm a missionary man." I answered. "I share about Jesus. I don’t smoke weed. Weed makes you lazy."
They nodded their heads. “Yea it does,” said one Filipino.
"But it makes you happy," one guy said laughing to his friends.
"Jesus makes me happy," I said, silencing his laughter and letting his other friends think.
They invited me to play on their team in a league versus other boroughs. They gave me their number and I left to go work out in a boxing gym that was a block up the street. I was going hard and in a full sweat when I saw a couple of the teenage kids from playing basketball looking at me through the window, smiling at me while I was working the bag. I smiled back and gave them my best kick and put my thumb in the air. Smiling ear to ear, they put their thumbs up and turned around and went on their way.
On my way back to the office I saw the kids lingering in the front of the street, smoking some cigarettes. To tell you the truth, I was afraid to go into where I was staying for fear that those guys would later rob the place. I was warned before that this was a dangerous area. So I gave them a head nod and walked past where I was staying. I walked up the block and slowed to a stop. There was an old hobo looking guy sitting on some steps and a bunch of guys walking around that looked just a little bit too desperate. Crud. I didn't know what to do. If I just walked into the office and showed them where I lived, I was risking a possible robbery in the future. If I continued wandering up the street I was risking someone robbing me right now.
"God what do I do?" I asked God to keep me safe and to be with me. I decided to walk across the street and try to befriend them some more. I figured, they wouldn't do anything to someone they considered one of themselves. So I dodged through oncoming Gypnies and Motorcycle Taxis and went over. It turns out that the Filipinos are HUGE fans of the UFC. A trait that we have in common. I actually worked with a UFC magazine before I left for Asia. So I talked with the guys for a good 15-20 minutes about the UFC. They were animated and excited to talk to me. We ended up talking about Muay Thai, since two of them saw me working out in the gym up the block. They told me they were all high school kids going to the same Catholic school between 16 and 20 years old. One of them was 26.
James asked me to teach them Muay Thai for self-defense, because there was a lot of robbers up the street who did hold ups with knives and rocks. I was a basketball coach for the YMCA back in California. I had coached youths from 4- 12 years old for the last four years. But this wasn't basketball and these were high school kids. This was Muay Thai, and I had only been training for four months. I was only using it for exercise and I didn't want these kids beating up on some defenseless kid on the street.
"I am only training," I said. "I'm not a teacher. My friend from Cavite (Filipino province), he is a real teacher, I just train."
"We want to know how to defend ourselves," James said. "All we know how to do is street fight."
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I had an idea.
"I will teach you Muay Thai," I said. "Pero (but) you have to let me teach you the Bible. I'm a missionary man. One story from the Bible for one lesson."
They all looked at each other.
"Ok!" James said. "Teach us Muay Thai."
"That is a good strategy," someone else said to me. They asked me if I was going to become a priest and I told them that I was just a regular guy, like anybody else.
"Hey it's getting late, said the 18-year old Filipino. "We have to go inside now."
"Ok tayo-na," I said. "I will see you tomorrow."
They all started giving me handshakes- their version was a hand-clasp with a forearm-to-chest bump.
"Hey we're G's now!" said James. " We have to give our secret handshake."
I taught them the way we did the handshake back home in America- Finger clasp to palm clasp and a forearm to the chest. They all laughed and went inside. I crossed the street and went into my place finished with another day and amazed at God’s providence. I asked myself:
“How am I going to teach these guys Muay Thai and show them the gospel?” I let out a breath. God give me grace.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
After the Storm
***report***
The man leans forward like a drunkard in the pew. He buries his face in his palms, as a guest preacher’s voice booms from the pulpit.
Six months after the Nargis Cyclone, Reverend Shane attends the annual Baptist gathering. He can still feel the effects of the cyclone that killed hundreds of thousands in Myanmar’s Irrawaddy delta. As the village pastor he has had to be strong, encouraging the people while still recovering from his own loss.
But on this morning in November, Reverend Shane can only drown in his pain. Before that fateful day in May, he was a husband and father of three growing children.
Now he and his 11-year-old son are the only ones from his family left.
Shane’s eyes become lost as he recalls the night he and thousands of others lost their families.
“I want to testify that God’s and our plans are sometimes different,” Shane says. On that night in May, Shane planned to rescue his entire family. But his plans failed when his seven-day old son was dropped in the flood and his wife and daughter succumbed to the powerful wind and waves.
Months later, Shane can still taste the salt water in his throat.
While the road to recovery remains long, experts predict that it will take 2-3 years for life in the delta to return back to normal. Currently, relief workers are aiming to rebuild homes and provide water. The rebuilding has proved a long and tedious task, as it requires over a days journey on a boat to reach the infected areas. Many of the villages still live in temporary housing.
Meanwhile, hundreds upon thousands of orphans have been displaced to cities such as Pathein and Myawmya. In these cities, relief work has been organized allowing for the outsourcing of supplies and aid.
Currently relief workers find that the biggest challenge for the affected areas has been the restoring of livelihood. Farming has proved difficult as flooding destroyed the soil. In Shane’s village, farmers have only been able to produce 2 out of 50 acres.
On this morning in November, Reverend Shane buries his face in his palms. There is much work to be done, but for now, he can only mourn for his lost wife, son and daughter. For days following the cyclone, Shane remained in denial, refusing to go out and bury his family. He finally forced himself to go out and recover the bodies. To keep his spirits lifted, he encouraged the children along the road.
“I want to thank God,” he says between his tears.” Because we are not like unbelievers without hope.”
While the cyclone is nine months past, the survivors are still dealing with the devastating affects. Since May, many have faithfully responded financially and prayerfully. May you continue to pray that the villages will receive both physical and spiritual aid. Pray that the people will rebuild their lives on the unwavering rock that is the word of Jesus Christ. Pray that the local churches will be rebuilt with a strong spiritual foundation so that they can serve as a refuge for any future tragedies.
The man leans forward like a drunkard in the pew. He buries his face in his palms, as a guest preacher’s voice booms from the pulpit.
Six months after the Nargis Cyclone, Reverend Shane attends the annual Baptist gathering. He can still feel the effects of the cyclone that killed hundreds of thousands in Myanmar’s Irrawaddy delta. As the village pastor he has had to be strong, encouraging the people while still recovering from his own loss.
But on this morning in November, Reverend Shane can only drown in his pain. Before that fateful day in May, he was a husband and father of three growing children.
Now he and his 11-year-old son are the only ones from his family left.
Shane’s eyes become lost as he recalls the night he and thousands of others lost their families.
“I want to testify that God’s and our plans are sometimes different,” Shane says. On that night in May, Shane planned to rescue his entire family. But his plans failed when his seven-day old son was dropped in the flood and his wife and daughter succumbed to the powerful wind and waves.
Months later, Shane can still taste the salt water in his throat.
While the road to recovery remains long, experts predict that it will take 2-3 years for life in the delta to return back to normal. Currently, relief workers are aiming to rebuild homes and provide water. The rebuilding has proved a long and tedious task, as it requires over a days journey on a boat to reach the infected areas. Many of the villages still live in temporary housing.
Meanwhile, hundreds upon thousands of orphans have been displaced to cities such as Pathein and Myawmya. In these cities, relief work has been organized allowing for the outsourcing of supplies and aid.
Currently relief workers find that the biggest challenge for the affected areas has been the restoring of livelihood. Farming has proved difficult as flooding destroyed the soil. In Shane’s village, farmers have only been able to produce 2 out of 50 acres.
On this morning in November, Reverend Shane buries his face in his palms. There is much work to be done, but for now, he can only mourn for his lost wife, son and daughter. For days following the cyclone, Shane remained in denial, refusing to go out and bury his family. He finally forced himself to go out and recover the bodies. To keep his spirits lifted, he encouraged the children along the road.
“I want to thank God,” he says between his tears.” Because we are not like unbelievers without hope.”
While the cyclone is nine months past, the survivors are still dealing with the devastating affects. Since May, many have faithfully responded financially and prayerfully. May you continue to pray that the villages will receive both physical and spiritual aid. Pray that the people will rebuild their lives on the unwavering rock that is the word of Jesus Christ. Pray that the local churches will be rebuilt with a strong spiritual foundation so that they can serve as a refuge for any future tragedies.
“Whoever comes to Me, and hears My sayings and does them, I will show you whom he is like: He is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently against that house, and could not shake it, for it was founded on the rock.” Mark 6:47-68 (NKJV)
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Courage Road
***narrative journal***
It was an old white-washed Toyota Corolla, a model probably from the early 80’s. Our hired driver was a ******* man with a kind smile and teeth stained by red Koon-ya (the country’s version of tobacco). Instead of pants, he wore a sarong, which was the country’s type of kilt. We loaded our bags into the car and set off into the night. Once we were out of the city we found ourselves on a road forged in the midst of trees.
I tried to make out anything beyond the road. But it was pitch black, and with our headlights on we could only see a few feet ahead. The car jolted up and down against the unpaved road. Slowly, we made our way, twisting and turning to avoid the countless potholes. Through the trees I could hear the distant sound of ethnic music, blasting from what sounded like an old stereo system.
“Ajon, I hear music.” I said. “Where is that coming from?”
“A village,” he replied. “Maybe they are having a wedding.”
At 50-years old Reverend Ajon was both my friend and guide. He was a stout, rounded native who never seemed to be lacking any joy. As a seasoned pastor and missionary, I was learning much, just by watching him.
In the back seat I reclined and put my hand out the window, cupping my palm against the wind. I was bouncing up and down like a pinball. I gritted my teeth. The car’s suspension system felt like it was put together with steel bars.
I looked out the window and let out a soft breath. The stars were shining brightly against an unadulterated, crisp black sky. It was almost majestic. This country was poor, but it didn’t have all the big industries to clog the air. The sky was stellar, immovable- a constant reminder of my Creator who had brought me so far. For some reason, I felt an indelible peace. With every pothole we passed I was getting closer to seeing the victims of the cyclone.
I began to pray silently.
“Dear God, please, please let me help the people affected by the cyclone. Please use whatever I have to give… I can write. I can report. Whatever. Just let me help…”
I repeated the prayer again and again. I just wanted to help. When I was in Laos a month ago, I learned that the Laos government’s number one enemy was Christianity. Now I was traveling in *****, where the number one enemy of the state was journalists. I was no martyr and I was just as scared as anyone else. But one thing I wanted to be was obedient to God and faithful to those supporting me.
A week before I was at my desk in Bangkok, working at my computer when Dalma said to me:
“Eric, maybe it’s better you come back as soon as you can. You know? The last journalist who went was put in prison for 12 years.”
“Really?” I said.
I felt the blood fall from my face. I imagined spending the next 12 years in prison. I had heard stories of Christians put in stocks, without a bathroom, eating porridge everyday from a bowl. I imagined life as a 34-year-old hapless, middle-aged man. Bangkok was comfortable, and something in me wanted to stay. But then, I thought of all the people who were supporting me back home. I remembered why I left America. I had a mission.
Courage. Trust God. He brought you here for a reason.
I tried to keep proactive words ringing in my head. I decided to be steadfast and resolute- if God opened up a door for me to enter any highly restricted areas, I’d walk through it- no matter the consequences.
“You okay bro?” Ajon turned back from the passenger seat. We were still driving down the road with nothing in sight.
“Yes sir,” I smiled. “I am fine.”
We rolled up on a government checkpoint. As we slowed to a halt, I pretended to sleep. I put a hand on my digital SLR next to me in my bag. In the trunks I had a camcorder, with tapes and a tripod. An officer with a rifle bent down and peeked through the window. He muttered some words in *******. Since we all looked like natives, he recorded our information and waved us past. As we sped through Ajon and the driver muttered something to each other. I took a look at Ajon. He was cool as ice.
The dust from the road blew against my face, encrusting in my hair and clothes. The grains of sand were almost palpable. I shut my eyes and imagined a sandy beach in California. I imagined myself running across the shoreline with the wind in my face. I was surfing a wave, in the next moment I was laughing with friends.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I awoke some hours later, but the time was 2 am.
“We’re here bro.” Ajon said from outside the car.
I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and pushed myself out the car. We made it.
****
It was an old white-washed Toyota Corolla, a model probably from the early 80’s. Our hired driver was a ******* man with a kind smile and teeth stained by red Koon-ya (the country’s version of tobacco). Instead of pants, he wore a sarong, which was the country’s type of kilt. We loaded our bags into the car and set off into the night. Once we were out of the city we found ourselves on a road forged in the midst of trees.
I tried to make out anything beyond the road. But it was pitch black, and with our headlights on we could only see a few feet ahead. The car jolted up and down against the unpaved road. Slowly, we made our way, twisting and turning to avoid the countless potholes. Through the trees I could hear the distant sound of ethnic music, blasting from what sounded like an old stereo system.
“Ajon, I hear music.” I said. “Where is that coming from?”
“A village,” he replied. “Maybe they are having a wedding.”
At 50-years old Reverend Ajon was both my friend and guide. He was a stout, rounded native who never seemed to be lacking any joy. As a seasoned pastor and missionary, I was learning much, just by watching him.
In the back seat I reclined and put my hand out the window, cupping my palm against the wind. I was bouncing up and down like a pinball. I gritted my teeth. The car’s suspension system felt like it was put together with steel bars.
I looked out the window and let out a soft breath. The stars were shining brightly against an unadulterated, crisp black sky. It was almost majestic. This country was poor, but it didn’t have all the big industries to clog the air. The sky was stellar, immovable- a constant reminder of my Creator who had brought me so far. For some reason, I felt an indelible peace. With every pothole we passed I was getting closer to seeing the victims of the cyclone.
I began to pray silently.
“Dear God, please, please let me help the people affected by the cyclone. Please use whatever I have to give… I can write. I can report. Whatever. Just let me help…”
I repeated the prayer again and again. I just wanted to help. When I was in Laos a month ago, I learned that the Laos government’s number one enemy was Christianity. Now I was traveling in *****, where the number one enemy of the state was journalists. I was no martyr and I was just as scared as anyone else. But one thing I wanted to be was obedient to God and faithful to those supporting me.
A week before I was at my desk in Bangkok, working at my computer when Dalma said to me:
“Eric, maybe it’s better you come back as soon as you can. You know? The last journalist who went was put in prison for 12 years.”
“Really?” I said.
I felt the blood fall from my face. I imagined spending the next 12 years in prison. I had heard stories of Christians put in stocks, without a bathroom, eating porridge everyday from a bowl. I imagined life as a 34-year-old hapless, middle-aged man. Bangkok was comfortable, and something in me wanted to stay. But then, I thought of all the people who were supporting me back home. I remembered why I left America. I had a mission.
Courage. Trust God. He brought you here for a reason.
I tried to keep proactive words ringing in my head. I decided to be steadfast and resolute- if God opened up a door for me to enter any highly restricted areas, I’d walk through it- no matter the consequences.
“You okay bro?” Ajon turned back from the passenger seat. We were still driving down the road with nothing in sight.
“Yes sir,” I smiled. “I am fine.”
We rolled up on a government checkpoint. As we slowed to a halt, I pretended to sleep. I put a hand on my digital SLR next to me in my bag. In the trunks I had a camcorder, with tapes and a tripod. An officer with a rifle bent down and peeked through the window. He muttered some words in *******. Since we all looked like natives, he recorded our information and waved us past. As we sped through Ajon and the driver muttered something to each other. I took a look at Ajon. He was cool as ice.
The dust from the road blew against my face, encrusting in my hair and clothes. The grains of sand were almost palpable. I shut my eyes and imagined a sandy beach in California. I imagined myself running across the shoreline with the wind in my face. I was surfing a wave, in the next moment I was laughing with friends.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I awoke some hours later, but the time was 2 am.
“We’re here bro.” Ajon said from outside the car.
I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and pushed myself out the car. We made it.
****
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Through the Border
***work update***
This is the first Through the Border that I had the chance to write and design. It will be released in December. For future publications I have created a template for a new format that will include more earthy tones and a more professional feel. Hopefully, it will debut sometime in the beginning of next year.
On a side note, I'm super thankful that I get to use my meager skills to in some way, give a voice to the people.
This is the first Through the Border that I had the chance to write and design. It will be released in December. For future publications I have created a template for a new format that will include more earthy tones and a more professional feel. Hopefully, it will debut sometime in the beginning of next year.
On a side note, I'm super thankful that I get to use my meager skills to in some way, give a voice to the people.
Workers Trained for the Harvest
***report***
***to be published in December's TTB***
Last summer’s 2008 Beijing Olympics proved to be a visual spectacle. Spending billions of dollars and enlisting the skills of over 15,000 Nationals, the Chinese nation won international recognition for its creative genius and economic affluence.
Behind the enchanting exhibition, China’s Communist government intensified its persecution against Christians by beating, imprisoning and evicting church leaders and their families. Many Christians suffered as China sought to present itself to the world as a controlled and united country.
One circulated account is the story of Pastor “Bike” Zhang Mingxuan, an outspoken evangelist known for sharing his faith and passing out literature while riding his bike. Days before the Olympics, one report cites that Public Security Officials used iron bars to beat Bike’s eldest son for 25 minutes. PSO then evicted Bike’s wife out of their home, throwing their furniture out the window and onto the street. During the games, Bike, his wife and a coworker were imprisoned.
Since the summer, the number of human right violations against Christians has increased as the government has made a concerted effort to put a stop to the house church movement. While the underground house-church movement remains nearly impossible to monitor, some speculate the growth has escalated to numbers reaching over 60 million people. Like in many nations in the ARNA, in China, Christianity is deemed as a religion that threatens the unity of the state. While the government allows for state controlled churches, it is illegal to make converts.
Through its China and Beyond (CAB) program Ethnos Asia Ministries works to carry out the vision to “strengthen the church in China to fulfill her calling for world mission.” Working mainly in the Southwest China region in the Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, Hainan, Guanxi, and Guangdong provinces, CAB has implemented the School of Workers (SOW) program to equip the nationals for ministry.
The SOW training consists of a two-part program, where participants learn everything from Bible basics to prayer to evangelism to spiritual gifting. After taking the first session, participants are required to go out and convert as well as disciple five people. Once a leader reaches 5 disciples they are allowed to return for the second session. After graduating from the second session they are then required to get 10 more converts and disciples. Afterwards graduates can teach their own SOW programs. With basic training and a simple faith, believers leave SOW training ready and energized to put what they learn into practice.
Filled with the characteristic zeal and a simple faith, SOW trained believers have been telling others about Jesus. A woman named Yude (pronounced “eedee”) from the Lisu tribe left the first session and returned in six months with 80 converts. She is now the pastor of a church movement that has been graciously increased and includes over 1,200 people in 35 house groups. CAB co-director Margaret Austen states the explosive growth in the house-church movement has created a tremendous need for trained teachers.
In 18 months SOW program has met the call by training over 200 Chinese from seven provinces. “[The SOW program] has proven itself. Time and time again. We need more and more SOWs,” Austen said.
SOW administrators project that in three more years, 30,000 nationals will be trained through the program.
SOW graduates serve the tribal people of China- many of whom live in mountainous regions that have not been visited in over 20 years. For many of these tribal believers having a Bible is a luxury that very few can enjoy. Bible couriers testify that in one village, tribal Chinese tearfully received a single Bible. The Bible was soon divided into parts so that it could be circulated throughout the village.
“It is our desire to conduct SOW in the whole of Southwest China- in every city and to every tribe,” said See, director of CAB. “[We want] to train leaders so that they can train their own people in their own language and share the Gospel.”
As EAM works to strengthen the church in China, key leaders foresee a new struggle more pervasive than government persecution. As China continues to develop, believers face the temptation of turning away to materialism.
“The danger in China now is materialism in the church. Communism is no longer the danger,” said Austen. “Let us pray that their commitment [to the gospel] remains the same.”
As government persecution persists, one Chinese pastor is not praying for God to remove the persecution. When visitors promised him that they would pray God to take away the persecution he gave a surprising response. The pastor asked the visitors to not ask God to remove the persecution.
"Because where there is no persecution the church sleeps,” he said. “It’s only when persecution comes that the church wakes up and does what it’s called to do.”
A popular Chinese proverb says, “Pure gold fears no fire”. While believers in this restricted country continue to undergo trials and intense persecution, their circumstances has allowed them to receive a treasure greater than gold.
1 Peter 1:6-7 says, “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”
Through its School of Workers program EAM will continue to equip the body of Christ to serve the unreached people of China. Pray for the strength of believers in access-restricted China.
Pastor Bike, his wife and coworker were arrested two days before the beginning of the Olympics. According to the China Aid Association, they were kept under house arrest at a resort so that they could not speak with media. They were released 21 days later with testimonies of how they shared the gospel with officials and guards.
***to be published in December's TTB***
Last summer’s 2008 Beijing Olympics proved to be a visual spectacle. Spending billions of dollars and enlisting the skills of over 15,000 Nationals, the Chinese nation won international recognition for its creative genius and economic affluence.
Behind the enchanting exhibition, China’s Communist government intensified its persecution against Christians by beating, imprisoning and evicting church leaders and their families. Many Christians suffered as China sought to present itself to the world as a controlled and united country.
One circulated account is the story of Pastor “Bike” Zhang Mingxuan, an outspoken evangelist known for sharing his faith and passing out literature while riding his bike. Days before the Olympics, one report cites that Public Security Officials used iron bars to beat Bike’s eldest son for 25 minutes. PSO then evicted Bike’s wife out of their home, throwing their furniture out the window and onto the street. During the games, Bike, his wife and a coworker were imprisoned.
Since the summer, the number of human right violations against Christians has increased as the government has made a concerted effort to put a stop to the house church movement. While the underground house-church movement remains nearly impossible to monitor, some speculate the growth has escalated to numbers reaching over 60 million people. Like in many nations in the ARNA, in China, Christianity is deemed as a religion that threatens the unity of the state. While the government allows for state controlled churches, it is illegal to make converts.
Through its China and Beyond (CAB) program Ethnos Asia Ministries works to carry out the vision to “strengthen the church in China to fulfill her calling for world mission.” Working mainly in the Southwest China region in the Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, Hainan, Guanxi, and Guangdong provinces, CAB has implemented the School of Workers (SOW) program to equip the nationals for ministry.
The SOW training consists of a two-part program, where participants learn everything from Bible basics to prayer to evangelism to spiritual gifting. After taking the first session, participants are required to go out and convert as well as disciple five people. Once a leader reaches 5 disciples they are allowed to return for the second session. After graduating from the second session they are then required to get 10 more converts and disciples. Afterwards graduates can teach their own SOW programs. With basic training and a simple faith, believers leave SOW training ready and energized to put what they learn into practice.
Filled with the characteristic zeal and a simple faith, SOW trained believers have been telling others about Jesus. A woman named Yude (pronounced “eedee”) from the Lisu tribe left the first session and returned in six months with 80 converts. She is now the pastor of a church movement that has been graciously increased and includes over 1,200 people in 35 house groups. CAB co-director Margaret Austen states the explosive growth in the house-church movement has created a tremendous need for trained teachers.
In 18 months SOW program has met the call by training over 200 Chinese from seven provinces. “[The SOW program] has proven itself. Time and time again. We need more and more SOWs,” Austen said.
SOW administrators project that in three more years, 30,000 nationals will be trained through the program.
SOW graduates serve the tribal people of China- many of whom live in mountainous regions that have not been visited in over 20 years. For many of these tribal believers having a Bible is a luxury that very few can enjoy. Bible couriers testify that in one village, tribal Chinese tearfully received a single Bible. The Bible was soon divided into parts so that it could be circulated throughout the village.
“It is our desire to conduct SOW in the whole of Southwest China- in every city and to every tribe,” said See, director of CAB. “[We want] to train leaders so that they can train their own people in their own language and share the Gospel.”
As EAM works to strengthen the church in China, key leaders foresee a new struggle more pervasive than government persecution. As China continues to develop, believers face the temptation of turning away to materialism.
“The danger in China now is materialism in the church. Communism is no longer the danger,” said Austen. “Let us pray that their commitment [to the gospel] remains the same.”
As government persecution persists, one Chinese pastor is not praying for God to remove the persecution. When visitors promised him that they would pray God to take away the persecution he gave a surprising response. The pastor asked the visitors to not ask God to remove the persecution.
"Because where there is no persecution the church sleeps,” he said. “It’s only when persecution comes that the church wakes up and does what it’s called to do.”
A popular Chinese proverb says, “Pure gold fears no fire”. While believers in this restricted country continue to undergo trials and intense persecution, their circumstances has allowed them to receive a treasure greater than gold.
1 Peter 1:6-7 says, “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”
Through its School of Workers program EAM will continue to equip the body of Christ to serve the unreached people of China. Pray for the strength of believers in access-restricted China.
Pastor Bike, his wife and coworker were arrested two days before the beginning of the Olympics. According to the China Aid Association, they were kept under house arrest at a resort so that they could not speak with media. They were released 21 days later with testimonies of how they shared the gospel with officials and guards.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Christian Manhood & Muay Thai
*** personal journal ***
I believe in Christian manhood. It’s one of the foundational principles of my life. To me, it means that as a man, I am called to use my God-given strength to provide security and protection to my family.
In my mind being a man of God means I can never use the strength he gives me to bring pain or unnecessary harm to those I love most. Instead, I am called to sacrificially lay down my life for my family, just like Jesus laid down his life for his church.
Today, I think too many fathers have copped out on their strength by emotionally or physically running out on their families. Or on the opposite end, many fathers use their strength to abuse their wives and kids.
Here in Asia, I’m finding joy in learning to be patient before God, as he molds my character and prepares me to be the kind of man who can love his family right.
I think the things I am witnessing here (poverty, spiritual battles, political struggles, personal struggles and so on) have been melting me into God’s hands. In His hands God is shaping me and molding me to be the kind of man that he wants me to be.
As melted clay, I’m finding a new love for God’s word, which I can only describe as fire. God’s word changes my consistency from soft clay to a hardened vessel, capable of being filled with God’s spirit- for his name’s sake and for the benefit of others.
All this said, I don’t have a family of my own yet, but someday if God wants it, I’ll have one.
Probably my favorite memory with my father was from when I was around 2 and my brother was around 4. We used to wrestle on top of my parent’s bed. WWE style, we would go 2-on-1 against my dad. As we play fought with punches and choke-holds my dad would pretend like he was losing the battle, and then suddenly erupt like the Incredible Hulk. When we got tired we would lie down and would hug and kiss my dad.
When we got older my dad taught us to play ball, and showed his passion for Jesus by teaching the word from our home. Everyday dad came home around 3 o’ clock and ate at the kitchen table. I grabbed my basketball and went to the backyard so he could watch me shoot hoops. Knowing he was watching always helped me to work towards the next level.
I know it’s not Father’s Day, but I’m a big hater on corporate driven holidays. In my opinion, every day should be Mother’s day, Father’s day or Valentines day. The Bible says that God is our Father in heaven and he watches us everyday. His love and keen interest in our lives should motivate us as followers of Jesus to move our faith to the next level. As we grow in knowledge of who he is we can bear goodness in our lives.
I am thankful for an earthly father who modeled Godliness to both me and my brother.
Here in Bangkok, I can’t resist the urge to go out and exercise. It’s been my way to purge stress and find enjoyment by sweating it out. There aren’t too many ballers out here. So every morning I’m in the city, I wrap my wrists and strap on gloves to learn Muay Thai (the national sport of Thailand).
It’s not hoops and it’s not the same as wrestling as a toddler with my dad, but to put it simply: I love it!
Link if you feel like checking out the sport: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJfo0n98vdU
I believe in Christian manhood. It’s one of the foundational principles of my life. To me, it means that as a man, I am called to use my God-given strength to provide security and protection to my family.
In my mind being a man of God means I can never use the strength he gives me to bring pain or unnecessary harm to those I love most. Instead, I am called to sacrificially lay down my life for my family, just like Jesus laid down his life for his church.
Today, I think too many fathers have copped out on their strength by emotionally or physically running out on their families. Or on the opposite end, many fathers use their strength to abuse their wives and kids.
Here in Asia, I’m finding joy in learning to be patient before God, as he molds my character and prepares me to be the kind of man who can love his family right.
I think the things I am witnessing here (poverty, spiritual battles, political struggles, personal struggles and so on) have been melting me into God’s hands. In His hands God is shaping me and molding me to be the kind of man that he wants me to be.
As melted clay, I’m finding a new love for God’s word, which I can only describe as fire. God’s word changes my consistency from soft clay to a hardened vessel, capable of being filled with God’s spirit- for his name’s sake and for the benefit of others.
All this said, I don’t have a family of my own yet, but someday if God wants it, I’ll have one.
Probably my favorite memory with my father was from when I was around 2 and my brother was around 4. We used to wrestle on top of my parent’s bed. WWE style, we would go 2-on-1 against my dad. As we play fought with punches and choke-holds my dad would pretend like he was losing the battle, and then suddenly erupt like the Incredible Hulk. When we got tired we would lie down and would hug and kiss my dad.
When we got older my dad taught us to play ball, and showed his passion for Jesus by teaching the word from our home. Everyday dad came home around 3 o’ clock and ate at the kitchen table. I grabbed my basketball and went to the backyard so he could watch me shoot hoops. Knowing he was watching always helped me to work towards the next level.
I know it’s not Father’s Day, but I’m a big hater on corporate driven holidays. In my opinion, every day should be Mother’s day, Father’s day or Valentines day. The Bible says that God is our Father in heaven and he watches us everyday. His love and keen interest in our lives should motivate us as followers of Jesus to move our faith to the next level. As we grow in knowledge of who he is we can bear goodness in our lives.
I am thankful for an earthly father who modeled Godliness to both me and my brother.
Here in Bangkok, I can’t resist the urge to go out and exercise. It’s been my way to purge stress and find enjoyment by sweating it out. There aren’t too many ballers out here. So every morning I’m in the city, I wrap my wrists and strap on gloves to learn Muay Thai (the national sport of Thailand).
It’s not hoops and it’s not the same as wrestling as a toddler with my dad, but to put it simply: I love it!
Link if you feel like checking out the sport: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJfo0n98vdU
Some Prayer Requests and Blessings
***if you would like to pray with me***
To all my friends, family and supporters, thank you for all your continual support. My experience here is the sum of God's grace as well as all your prayers. And if I don't get a chance to say this later, Happy Thanksgiving!
Your friend,
EJ
- With the ongoing political instability in Thailand, the social psyche is still on pins and needles. I'm realizing that I need to be a better follower of Jesus and share him with the Thais. Pray that I will make it a priority to learn the Thai language so I can better connect with the people here.
On October 22-25, I spent time with the Thais at a youth camp. During one session I was able to share with app. 50 Thai youths about 'Carrying your Cross Daily' and also about the 'Dangers of Materialism' (I spoke through an interpreter). I learned some preaching lessons as I thought I came down on them a little too hard. But this week I heard some feedback and supposedly, they were actually blessed! (It must have been God). Thank God for using me to minister to the Thai youth.
I was in Communist Laos from October 25- November 2 visiting house churches throughout the country. My trip definitely left its mark on me in a way that will probably change me forever. In some unexpected ways, God broke down walls in my heart and taught me some really hard lessons. So thank God for the tough lessons and also for the way he's working in Communist Laos (I will post a report on the Christian movement in Laos sometime soon).
- I'm producing my organization's Through the Border, which is an eight-page ministry publication that will be released in December. So I'll be super busy in the next two weeks. Pray for a truck-load of grace as I write stories and prepare the design.
- Lastly, when my situation here doesn't work out as I plan, pray that I can really trust that:
"In all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose". Romans 8:28
To all my friends, family and supporters, thank you for all your continual support. My experience here is the sum of God's grace as well as all your prayers. And if I don't get a chance to say this later, Happy Thanksgiving!
Your friend,
EJ
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Bangkok Dangerous?
***political report***
Looks like I came at a bad time. This week, thousands of Thais assembled in Bangkok to protest against what they deem is a corrupted government. Calling for a removal of current officials, the People's Alliance for Democracy created a barricade in front of Parliament, meant to disrupt the legislative session. In response, the government deployed its troops that, according to the South China Morning Post, killed one and injured hundreds.
This most recent anti-government demonstration puts yet another exclamation on Thailand's recent political troubles that has seen a number of government officials arrested or dismissed and nearly a dozen killed. I'm pretty sure news stations back home aren't covering much of the situation. If I knew more about what's going on I'd let you know, but I don't know much. The journalist part of me wants to run out there with my camcorder and camera, and find out what's going on, but I thought better of it- just been trying to stay out of the trouble. I was however, searched by two policemen who were manning the streets. I was walking home from work with a big bag full of my laundry and one of the policemen started eyeballing me (I think my beard makes me look like some kind of Asian Islamic fundamentalist). So they just padded me down and made me open my bags and what not. Anyways, I told them I was a tourist and they believed me. Afterward, I went home and shaved.
from South Morning China Post
Prayer Requests:
- There's a book I really want to write about a missionary who has had some amazing experiences. It's great as a career opportunity, but pray that God would work this out for whatever he wants to do.
- I told my organization that I used to work in children and college ministry and they asked me to be a speaker at a youth retreat for a sister organization. :/ eek! I think they gave me the topic of materialism, which is pretty fitting for me as an American right? :) Pray that God would be exceptionally gracious to me when I open my mouth.
Looks like I came at a bad time. This week, thousands of Thais assembled in Bangkok to protest against what they deem is a corrupted government. Calling for a removal of current officials, the People's Alliance for Democracy created a barricade in front of Parliament, meant to disrupt the legislative session. In response, the government deployed its troops that, according to the South China Morning Post, killed one and injured hundreds.
This most recent anti-government demonstration puts yet another exclamation on Thailand's recent political troubles that has seen a number of government officials arrested or dismissed and nearly a dozen killed. I'm pretty sure news stations back home aren't covering much of the situation. If I knew more about what's going on I'd let you know, but I don't know much. The journalist part of me wants to run out there with my camcorder and camera, and find out what's going on, but I thought better of it- just been trying to stay out of the trouble. I was however, searched by two policemen who were manning the streets. I was walking home from work with a big bag full of my laundry and one of the policemen started eyeballing me (I think my beard makes me look like some kind of Asian Islamic fundamentalist). So they just padded me down and made me open my bags and what not. Anyways, I told them I was a tourist and they believed me. Afterward, I went home and shaved.
from South Morning China Post
Prayer Requests:
- There's a book I really want to write about a missionary who has had some amazing experiences. It's great as a career opportunity, but pray that God would work this out for whatever he wants to do.
- I told my organization that I used to work in children and college ministry and they asked me to be a speaker at a youth retreat for a sister organization. :/ eek! I think they gave me the topic of materialism, which is pretty fitting for me as an American right? :) Pray that God would be exceptionally gracious to me when I open my mouth.
Monday, October 6, 2008
One Month Anniversary
September 5 was my arrival date in Bangkok. So this video log marks my one month anniversary in Asia.
** the date is incorrect on the video**
If you want to follow my narrative journals I will be posting them on the corresponding date... so you can refer to the blog archive on your right if you want to read a long.
Already Posted:
Sept 3
Hate it or Love it
Sept 5
Welcome to Bangkok
Sept 5
Fish out of Water
Sept 5
The Office***
*** new
In Production:
Sept 6
Muted
Sept 6
Lost in Bangkok
Sept 7
Lady Boy and Muay Thai
Sept 13
Soy Sauce in Bangkok
Sept 13
Tut Tut Suicide
Sept 13
Red Light Akbar
Sept 27
Border Hopping
Sept 28
Cali Kid and a Karen Refugee
** the date is incorrect on the video**
If you want to follow my narrative journals I will be posting them on the corresponding date... so you can refer to the blog archive on your right if you want to read a long.
Already Posted:
Sept 3
Hate it or Love it
Sept 5
Welcome to Bangkok
Sept 5
Fish out of Water
Sept 5
The Office***
*** new
In Production:
Sept 6
Muted
Sept 6
Lost in Bangkok
Sept 7
Lady Boy and Muay Thai
Sept 13
Soy Sauce in Bangkok
Sept 13
Tut Tut Suicide
Sept 13
Red Light Akbar
Sept 27
Border Hopping
Sept 28
Cali Kid and a Karen Refugee
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Cyclone Nargis
***report***
I have been doing a report on Cyclone Nargis. If you are unaware Nargis was a cyclone that devastated the delta region of Myanmar in early May, killing tens upon thousands of unexpected victims. Currently, 55, 917 people are missing and 77,738 have been pronounced dead. Millions more are homeless without running water or a viable source of income.
Because the government stopped counting bodies, it is feared that the death toll could rise to one million.
If this is true than Nargis is the worst cyclone in recorded history.
Following the cyclone, Myanmar’s military led junta closed its borders to foreign aid. Behind the government’s blockades, even more needlessly died from disease and famine.
I have read some firsthand and have heard secondhand accounts. Here are three:
- One grandparent, while struggling to stay afloat, had to release one of her two grandchildren go in order to survive a giant a wave. Soon a second wave came and took the second child. She survived by holding to a tree.
- One survivor watched the 120 mph winds take away all his family members.
- One woman saved both herself and her child by grabbing a tree with both arms while biting her baby’s neck.
The cyclone severely affected the Karen, an intensely persecuted and marginalized people of this region. A huge portion of the victims who died was from this tribe, many of whom are believers.
Where is God in the midst of intense suffering? It is one of the deepest theological questions that many struggle with.
One relief worker told me that after the cyclone there has been a harvest of conversions- people who have found new hope in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“I don’t understand why it happened like this,” he said. “We just have to say that God allowed it to happen. The believers are more close to God because they cannot depend on anything; even though some (relief workers) have donated, many can’t come. So they just trust God. “
With each visit, dozens and hundreds of people have turned their lives over to Jesus, he said. In various areas, church communities are beginning to spring up in the aftermath of this tragedy.
“On one side something bad happened, but on the other side there is the Lord’s harvest,” he said. “One side is very sad, on the other side God’s doing something.”
Nearly five months after the cyclone, the immediate trauma of the event has alleviated. The government has informally opened avenues for some international aid. However, Myanmar’s borders are still strictly regulated against outside agencies. Those who live in these regions have begun the slow process of piecing their lives back together- first by rebuilding their homes.
While the rehabilitation is underway, the long-term effects are evident. Many survivors, and even animals, cower and hide whenever strong weather begins to arise. These psychological effects linger and may remain for many years.
Hope for these victim’s futures are weighted in their perseverance to rebuild. But they are still in great need of assistance. With Myanmar’s rigid borders, the local people need to be empowered financially and spiritually so that restoration can move forward. Surrounding communities with access to the local people are the best avenues to give help.
One organization’s network of churches within the affected region is working towards empowerment through the local church. This network of churches and denominations has time-tested methods for crossing borders. God is bringing new life to a region flooded with death.
***
Personally, processing an event of such tremendous magnitude is draining. It would be easy to displace myself and think of something else. But that’s not why I’m here. Again, my mission is to act as a liaison between you and the people of the ARNA. Here are some of images that help articulate the grief experienced by the Burmese people. As a word of caution, some of these images are graphic.
You can contact me if you want to partner with a relief agency.
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A poem I wrote as I process this tragedy:
I have been doing a report on Cyclone Nargis. If you are unaware Nargis was a cyclone that devastated the delta region of Myanmar in early May, killing tens upon thousands of unexpected victims. Currently, 55, 917 people are missing and 77,738 have been pronounced dead. Millions more are homeless without running water or a viable source of income.
Because the government stopped counting bodies, it is feared that the death toll could rise to one million.
If this is true than Nargis is the worst cyclone in recorded history.
Following the cyclone, Myanmar’s military led junta closed its borders to foreign aid. Behind the government’s blockades, even more needlessly died from disease and famine.
I have read some firsthand and have heard secondhand accounts. Here are three:
- One grandparent, while struggling to stay afloat, had to release one of her two grandchildren go in order to survive a giant a wave. Soon a second wave came and took the second child. She survived by holding to a tree.
- One survivor watched the 120 mph winds take away all his family members.
- One woman saved both herself and her child by grabbing a tree with both arms while biting her baby’s neck.
The cyclone severely affected the Karen, an intensely persecuted and marginalized people of this region. A huge portion of the victims who died was from this tribe, many of whom are believers.
Where is God in the midst of intense suffering? It is one of the deepest theological questions that many struggle with.
One relief worker told me that after the cyclone there has been a harvest of conversions- people who have found new hope in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“I don’t understand why it happened like this,” he said. “We just have to say that God allowed it to happen. The believers are more close to God because they cannot depend on anything; even though some (relief workers) have donated, many can’t come. So they just trust God. “
With each visit, dozens and hundreds of people have turned their lives over to Jesus, he said. In various areas, church communities are beginning to spring up in the aftermath of this tragedy.
“On one side something bad happened, but on the other side there is the Lord’s harvest,” he said. “One side is very sad, on the other side God’s doing something.”
Nearly five months after the cyclone, the immediate trauma of the event has alleviated. The government has informally opened avenues for some international aid. However, Myanmar’s borders are still strictly regulated against outside agencies. Those who live in these regions have begun the slow process of piecing their lives back together- first by rebuilding their homes.
While the rehabilitation is underway, the long-term effects are evident. Many survivors, and even animals, cower and hide whenever strong weather begins to arise. These psychological effects linger and may remain for many years.
Hope for these victim’s futures are weighted in their perseverance to rebuild. But they are still in great need of assistance. With Myanmar’s rigid borders, the local people need to be empowered financially and spiritually so that restoration can move forward. Surrounding communities with access to the local people are the best avenues to give help.
One organization’s network of churches within the affected region is working towards empowerment through the local church. This network of churches and denominations has time-tested methods for crossing borders. God is bringing new life to a region flooded with death.
***
Personally, processing an event of such tremendous magnitude is draining. It would be easy to displace myself and think of something else. But that’s not why I’m here. Again, my mission is to act as a liaison between you and the people of the ARNA. Here are some of images that help articulate the grief experienced by the Burmese people. As a word of caution, some of these images are graphic.
You can contact me if you want to partner with a relief agency.
Nargis Photos
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A poem I wrote as I process this tragedy:
"CONVINCED"
In the wake of the wind,
There is forgiveness for sins
In the midst of weeping and wailing,
His mercies are never, never failing.
No. I am convinced.
Death’s stench cannot quench,
The river of God’s love,
He sees the tears,
And heals the wounds of the mourning.
On May 2, a million may have died,
But I am convinced.
His mercies are new, new every morning.
In the wake of the wind,
There is forgiveness for sins
In the midst of weeping and wailing,
His mercies are never, never failing.
No. I am convinced.
Death’s stench cannot quench,
The river of God’s love,
He sees the tears,
And heals the wounds of the mourning.
On May 2, a million may have died,
But I am convinced.
His mercies are new, new every morning.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Thin Ice
***a personal & reflective journal***
I am the best judge of my emotional history.
When I first started walking with God, I was young and very zealous. I just wanted God’s strength and power to be a part of me. I wasn’t concerned about being weak. In fact being weak was the last thing on my mind (very typical male, I know ☺).
The reality was, I carried much emotional baggage. I discovered quickly that deciding to follow Jesus didn’t mean I could just check all my struggles at the door. Past pains and abuses had made me susceptible to very deep emotional lows. Even though I’d pray to God and read his word every day, the pains from my past always seemed to linger. I hadn’t drowned them out yet. It was so deep that every week I would find myself entertaining thoughts of suicide. In those moments, I thought that I’d rather die than live in so much pain.
I sought God, but I was only concerned with being strong- I couldn’t see myself as a child, hurting and in desperate need of God’s mercy.
It was during that season that a verse from the Bible had a powerful impact on my life. Today, it is a huge reason why I believe that the Bible is “living and active” and gives “light to the eyes” and “restores the soul.” It was Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:14-15 that helped me turn a new corner.
I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in me. It was only by looking into the compassion and majesty of my Savior that I was really able to forgive. I realized that being able to forgive those who have hurt and destroyed me- that was true power. It was the realest testimony that I had received divine forgiveness.
So I forgave with a forgiveness that wasn’t my own. It was simple and with words, but profound in terms that I think God saw me from heaven and was pleased. When I, in action, lived out God forgiveness to me by forgiving others, I received not only restoration, but also power and a new life that only comes from God.
I am thankful that God’s ways are not our ways. In that season of growth, God was teaching me that my weakness was his way of making me depend on his strength. By showing me that I needed to live out of my weakness instead of my power, he was teaching me that I needed him as the sole source of my life. The whole time, as he was instilling me with the truth that “his love is better than life”, he was healing my brokenness.
***
Today I walk the streets of Bangkok. I look back at that season of my life and laugh and remember fondly the vigor of my youth (although I am still young).
I have been wary of my emotional history, and have intentionally treaded softly in these last weeks. I have taken small steps, gauging my heart along the way. I have tested the ice beneath me, pressing the weight of my emotions on top of it, waiting to see if it would crack. I am thankful that because of Jesus’ healing in my life, I have discovered that the ice beneath me is not as thin as it used to be. I am stronger now.
God has prepared me for this season of my life.
While I am renewed by his strength and forgiveness, I have still found it difficult to completely embrace my new life in Asia. As I am trying to lay hold of a new season, I am learning that a part of me still wants to hold on to the past. I guess that is natural.
It’s not really the lifestyle that I miss. Surfing, snowboarding and food I can live with out (but I’m betting that missing Laker basketball will prove difficult ☺). I made up my mind a long time ago that I would never make God adjust his plans to my lifestyle, but rather, I would be the one to adjust to wherever he sends me. So it’s not the lifestyle, but I think it’s the relationships that make it hard.
In California, whenever the pressures of work, school or ministry weighed heavy on me I could always find an escape. I could make the drive down the 91 to see my parents, play with my dog and eat all the food my mother cooked. Or I could call my trusted friends to just hang out. At home I had relationships to lean on where I could just be myself with no apprehension- completely unfiltered with all my flaws.
There’s something about living in another part of the world, or anywhere new, that strips you of all your dependencies.
Each night I have been in Bangkok, I find myself dreaming that I’m back home spending time with a different person I love. It’s ironic, because while I am dreaming, part of me wants to be back in Asia. But when I’m awake I think about being home. Morning comes and I open my eyes and have to remind myself of where I am. It’s a good thing I think, because with every new day I’m reminded that God has faithfully brought me to this point. In my youth, I am thankful for the degrees that he has broken and humbled me. I’m so unworthy, only willing.
So while I have not posted, I have journaled much. And I promise that some of them are pretty funny and not as serious as today’s. I just haven’t posted them. Honestly, I have felt a little apprehensive about putting them up since now I know you all are reading! But I promise to be as candid as possible. Please accept my miscalculated judgments and fleshly inclinations! To His Name be the Glory.
Missing you,
eb
"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Cor. 12:9
I am the best judge of my emotional history.
When I first started walking with God, I was young and very zealous. I just wanted God’s strength and power to be a part of me. I wasn’t concerned about being weak. In fact being weak was the last thing on my mind (very typical male, I know ☺).
The reality was, I carried much emotional baggage. I discovered quickly that deciding to follow Jesus didn’t mean I could just check all my struggles at the door. Past pains and abuses had made me susceptible to very deep emotional lows. Even though I’d pray to God and read his word every day, the pains from my past always seemed to linger. I hadn’t drowned them out yet. It was so deep that every week I would find myself entertaining thoughts of suicide. In those moments, I thought that I’d rather die than live in so much pain.
I sought God, but I was only concerned with being strong- I couldn’t see myself as a child, hurting and in desperate need of God’s mercy.
It was during that season that a verse from the Bible had a powerful impact on my life. Today, it is a huge reason why I believe that the Bible is “living and active” and gives “light to the eyes” and “restores the soul.” It was Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:14-15 that helped me turn a new corner.
“If you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
My pain was so great; I didn’t feel a tinge of mercy. I only wanted the person who hurt me to know the depth of my pain. Jesus’ word to me was that if I truly received God’s forgiveness for all my sins against Him, than I should be able to forgive others.I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in me. It was only by looking into the compassion and majesty of my Savior that I was really able to forgive. I realized that being able to forgive those who have hurt and destroyed me- that was true power. It was the realest testimony that I had received divine forgiveness.
So I forgave with a forgiveness that wasn’t my own. It was simple and with words, but profound in terms that I think God saw me from heaven and was pleased. When I, in action, lived out God forgiveness to me by forgiving others, I received not only restoration, but also power and a new life that only comes from God.
I am thankful that God’s ways are not our ways. In that season of growth, God was teaching me that my weakness was his way of making me depend on his strength. By showing me that I needed to live out of my weakness instead of my power, he was teaching me that I needed him as the sole source of my life. The whole time, as he was instilling me with the truth that “his love is better than life”, he was healing my brokenness.
***
Today I walk the streets of Bangkok. I look back at that season of my life and laugh and remember fondly the vigor of my youth (although I am still young).
I have been wary of my emotional history, and have intentionally treaded softly in these last weeks. I have taken small steps, gauging my heart along the way. I have tested the ice beneath me, pressing the weight of my emotions on top of it, waiting to see if it would crack. I am thankful that because of Jesus’ healing in my life, I have discovered that the ice beneath me is not as thin as it used to be. I am stronger now.
God has prepared me for this season of my life.
While I am renewed by his strength and forgiveness, I have still found it difficult to completely embrace my new life in Asia. As I am trying to lay hold of a new season, I am learning that a part of me still wants to hold on to the past. I guess that is natural.
It’s not really the lifestyle that I miss. Surfing, snowboarding and food I can live with out (but I’m betting that missing Laker basketball will prove difficult ☺). I made up my mind a long time ago that I would never make God adjust his plans to my lifestyle, but rather, I would be the one to adjust to wherever he sends me. So it’s not the lifestyle, but I think it’s the relationships that make it hard.
In California, whenever the pressures of work, school or ministry weighed heavy on me I could always find an escape. I could make the drive down the 91 to see my parents, play with my dog and eat all the food my mother cooked. Or I could call my trusted friends to just hang out. At home I had relationships to lean on where I could just be myself with no apprehension- completely unfiltered with all my flaws.
There’s something about living in another part of the world, or anywhere new, that strips you of all your dependencies.
Each night I have been in Bangkok, I find myself dreaming that I’m back home spending time with a different person I love. It’s ironic, because while I am dreaming, part of me wants to be back in Asia. But when I’m awake I think about being home. Morning comes and I open my eyes and have to remind myself of where I am. It’s a good thing I think, because with every new day I’m reminded that God has faithfully brought me to this point. In my youth, I am thankful for the degrees that he has broken and humbled me. I’m so unworthy, only willing.
So while I have not posted, I have journaled much. And I promise that some of them are pretty funny and not as serious as today’s. I just haven’t posted them. Honestly, I have felt a little apprehensive about putting them up since now I know you all are reading! But I promise to be as candid as possible. Please accept my miscalculated judgments and fleshly inclinations! To His Name be the Glory.
Missing you,
eb
"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Cor. 12:9
Friday, September 5, 2008
The Office
**narrative journal**
Time: 11am Bangkok Sept. 5. First day in Bangkok
The air in Bangkok was humid. At the *** offices, someone had plastered a colorful sticker on the sliding glass door. It said “Rejoice”. I slid open the door and was immediately engulfed by the office’s icy temperature. Two female receptionists, who looked around my own age, were in the first room. With more awkward bowing, I pressed my palms together and introduced myself
“I am EJ,” I said. “from America.”
Both of them spoke softly and were hesitant with their English. The receptionist’s were two cousins named Rita and Pam. Rita, the daughter of John (the scraggly Laotian who looked like Alfred E. Neuman), sat at the desks closest to me, was tilting her head with a quizzical look.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“The US.” I answered.
“But where are you from?” she asked again.
“Well, I was born in America,” I explained. “But my parents are Filipino.”
“Ohhh! Okay.” Both of the receptionists nodded their heads in understanding. I was told later that when they heard that an American was coming, they immediately thought of a very tall, very Caucasian man. Of course, I am neither of those.
“Is Mary here?” I asked.
“I think she is upstairs.” Rita answered.
I moved on through the office, which was half-home, half-work place. Dark-brown wood covered the floor and a crescent entry way divided the first room in two parts. It was quaint and welcoming and was kept meticulously clean. The second section served as the workplace for John and a Burmese pastor named Tuba.
When I opened the first door, I found myself no longer in an office but a living room. There was a couch, a tv and bookshelves filled with Bibles, dictionaries, thesauruses and dozens of books on missionary work. Over the dining room table, someone had hung a colorful world map.
I was making my way to the staircase when I saw a woman through the backdoor. Her frame was slighter than most Asians, and her eyes were cast downward, focused on something she was doing. She was older, bespectacled and dressed simply. I went towards her to introduce myself, but then, something made me hesitate.
I turned back to the staircase. Where there was another sliding glass door, this time with an “I Love Jesus” sticker pasted at eye level (I guess they put these up so no one will walk into the glass). I pressed my palm against the door to slide it open, leaving my handprint on the glass.
Upstairs I found three more rooms and a bathroom. Two rooms were used for office space and the third was a bedroom. Looking for Mary, I peeked through the first door, but she was nowhere to be found. I moved on to the second office, which I found out belonged to Paul, the director of the organization. When I entered, he was pacing the room.
“Eric,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”
He had spent at least a decade in the States, which had given his English accent a Western drawl. He extended his hand to me and I shook it gratefully. After all my awkward bowing, I welcomed a nice, strong handshake.
I told him I was glad to be here and I made my way back downstairs where I was surprised to find the bespectacled woman bent down at the door, windexing my handprints of off the glass! She was the house servant! In America I was never used to having servants. I remembered that in Asia, it was a regular occurrence.
Her name was Dee, a Cambodian who had converted from Buddhism to Christianity a very long time ago. After she had given her life to the church, she moved forward and never looked back. Now she was serving at the office, living in a small room behind the house.
I sat at one of the desks in the first room and waited for Mary to arrive.
***
At around 4pm Bangkok time, I walked the 20 feet to the adjacent house where the weekly chapel was being held. Over a dozen workers and missionaries sat around a white conference table, where large maps of over a half-dozen countries hung on the walls. I took my place at one of the open seats.
They sang a worship song, which I remembered singing in church from the mid 90’s.
As they sang, my eyes began to flutter. It was around 2 am back home. The jet lag was making it my eyes sink like quicksand. Luckily, the AC was again, blasting an Arctic breeze, which was probably the only thing keeping me awake.
After the music, John welcomed me. In a clockwise direction, I was introduced to each member of the team.
The first was a Chinese man named Z ***names have been changed for the safety of workers. Recently engaged, he had a boyish face that made him look almost too trusting. He seemed to grin at all times. Z worked in one of the most closed countries in SE Asia.
Next was Goku. He processed papers for everyone’s travel.
Ping-Pong was the comedian of the group. Now that I think of it, I have never found out exactly what his job was. But he did all the odd jobs around. He was the most robust and easy going of all and great for a laugh. He was also the director’s little brother.
Tuba was another rounded brother, who played the guitar and sang vehemently. He was a pastor that seemed to have a genuinely good-natured spirit, which I think is a rarity to find. (If Christians are jars that God fills with joy, I have to say- I think this man is filled to the brim.)
Mary was the boss after Paul, and coordinated work in different countries.
Dalma was a petite Filipina: Assistant to the director.
Tuna worked in Thailand.
Lucy was a British woman who enjoyed telling me that I look like Barack Obama- the next president.
Ruth was a Filipina who cooked often, and served at schools and different countries throughout Asia.
Jackie worked with a particular oppressed people group in north Asia.
And then Rita and Pam, the secretaries. And also John.
They gave me the floor to speak. I was tired and didn’t have much to say. I ended up telling them my testimony so that they could get to know me a bit and know something about my history. I told them about my background and a little bit about why I came.
“…. so that’s my testimony,” I said afterwards. “I just wanted to go where there was the most need and God gave me this opportunity. Since I was seventeen, one of my prayers has always been: ‘make me a servant, humble and meek, Lord let me lift up those who are weak.’ Hopefully as we talk you all can share something about yourselves to me.”
Afterwords, they all gave reports about what was happening in their specific areas of work. I was tired, but I found their incredible stories of faith despite persecution, inspiring and re-energizing.
I went home and even though my body was tired, my mind felt like it was going a million miles a second. I slept for just two hours.
No amount of sleep could have prepared me for the next day.
***
next up: "Muted"...
Time: 11am Bangkok Sept. 5. First day in Bangkok
The air in Bangkok was humid. At the *** offices, someone had plastered a colorful sticker on the sliding glass door. It said “Rejoice”. I slid open the door and was immediately engulfed by the office’s icy temperature. Two female receptionists, who looked around my own age, were in the first room. With more awkward bowing, I pressed my palms together and introduced myself
“I am EJ,” I said. “from America.”
Both of them spoke softly and were hesitant with their English. The receptionist’s were two cousins named Rita and Pam. Rita, the daughter of John (the scraggly Laotian who looked like Alfred E. Neuman), sat at the desks closest to me, was tilting her head with a quizzical look.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“The US.” I answered.
“But where are you from?” she asked again.
“Well, I was born in America,” I explained. “But my parents are Filipino.”
“Ohhh! Okay.” Both of the receptionists nodded their heads in understanding. I was told later that when they heard that an American was coming, they immediately thought of a very tall, very Caucasian man. Of course, I am neither of those.
“Is Mary here?” I asked.
“I think she is upstairs.” Rita answered.
I moved on through the office, which was half-home, half-work place. Dark-brown wood covered the floor and a crescent entry way divided the first room in two parts. It was quaint and welcoming and was kept meticulously clean. The second section served as the workplace for John and a Burmese pastor named Tuba.
When I opened the first door, I found myself no longer in an office but a living room. There was a couch, a tv and bookshelves filled with Bibles, dictionaries, thesauruses and dozens of books on missionary work. Over the dining room table, someone had hung a colorful world map.
I was making my way to the staircase when I saw a woman through the backdoor. Her frame was slighter than most Asians, and her eyes were cast downward, focused on something she was doing. She was older, bespectacled and dressed simply. I went towards her to introduce myself, but then, something made me hesitate.
I turned back to the staircase. Where there was another sliding glass door, this time with an “I Love Jesus” sticker pasted at eye level (I guess they put these up so no one will walk into the glass). I pressed my palm against the door to slide it open, leaving my handprint on the glass.
Upstairs I found three more rooms and a bathroom. Two rooms were used for office space and the third was a bedroom. Looking for Mary, I peeked through the first door, but she was nowhere to be found. I moved on to the second office, which I found out belonged to Paul, the director of the organization. When I entered, he was pacing the room.
“Eric,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”
He had spent at least a decade in the States, which had given his English accent a Western drawl. He extended his hand to me and I shook it gratefully. After all my awkward bowing, I welcomed a nice, strong handshake.
I told him I was glad to be here and I made my way back downstairs where I was surprised to find the bespectacled woman bent down at the door, windexing my handprints of off the glass! She was the house servant! In America I was never used to having servants. I remembered that in Asia, it was a regular occurrence.
Her name was Dee, a Cambodian who had converted from Buddhism to Christianity a very long time ago. After she had given her life to the church, she moved forward and never looked back. Now she was serving at the office, living in a small room behind the house.
I sat at one of the desks in the first room and waited for Mary to arrive.
***
At around 4pm Bangkok time, I walked the 20 feet to the adjacent house where the weekly chapel was being held. Over a dozen workers and missionaries sat around a white conference table, where large maps of over a half-dozen countries hung on the walls. I took my place at one of the open seats.
They sang a worship song, which I remembered singing in church from the mid 90’s.
As they sang, my eyes began to flutter. It was around 2 am back home. The jet lag was making it my eyes sink like quicksand. Luckily, the AC was again, blasting an Arctic breeze, which was probably the only thing keeping me awake.
After the music, John welcomed me. In a clockwise direction, I was introduced to each member of the team.
The first was a Chinese man named Z ***names have been changed for the safety of workers. Recently engaged, he had a boyish face that made him look almost too trusting. He seemed to grin at all times. Z worked in one of the most closed countries in SE Asia.
Next was Goku. He processed papers for everyone’s travel.
Ping-Pong was the comedian of the group. Now that I think of it, I have never found out exactly what his job was. But he did all the odd jobs around. He was the most robust and easy going of all and great for a laugh. He was also the director’s little brother.
Tuba was another rounded brother, who played the guitar and sang vehemently. He was a pastor that seemed to have a genuinely good-natured spirit, which I think is a rarity to find. (If Christians are jars that God fills with joy, I have to say- I think this man is filled to the brim.)
Mary was the boss after Paul, and coordinated work in different countries.
Dalma was a petite Filipina: Assistant to the director.
Tuna worked in Thailand.
Lucy was a British woman who enjoyed telling me that I look like Barack Obama- the next president.
Ruth was a Filipina who cooked often, and served at schools and different countries throughout Asia.
Jackie worked with a particular oppressed people group in north Asia.
And then Rita and Pam, the secretaries. And also John.
They gave me the floor to speak. I was tired and didn’t have much to say. I ended up telling them my testimony so that they could get to know me a bit and know something about my history. I told them about my background and a little bit about why I came.
“…. so that’s my testimony,” I said afterwards. “I just wanted to go where there was the most need and God gave me this opportunity. Since I was seventeen, one of my prayers has always been: ‘make me a servant, humble and meek, Lord let me lift up those who are weak.’ Hopefully as we talk you all can share something about yourselves to me.”
Afterwords, they all gave reports about what was happening in their specific areas of work. I was tired, but I found their incredible stories of faith despite persecution, inspiring and re-energizing.
I went home and even though my body was tired, my mind felt like it was going a million miles a second. I slept for just two hours.
No amount of sleep could have prepared me for the next day.
***
next up: "Muted"...
A Fish out of Water
***narrative journal***
Time: 2:30 am Bangkok time just after I was dropped off by the Jabba guy
The creaky elevator labored its way up to the eighth floor of the building. It gave a slight ding and the doors grinded itself open. As I stepped into the expansive white-tiled hallway, the fluorescent lights cast an ominous mood. Down the long hallway, sets of shoes were placed neatly just outside most of the doors. My steps echoed as I made my way to the second to last room. Room 824.
My room was bare but spacious (a bed, two tables, and a dresser). It was actually larger than what I was used to. The air conditioning hummed silently as I leaned my luggage against the wall. It wasn’t exactly Motel 6,but it was accommodating. I even had a balcony. The view was breathtaking. I could see the entire Bangkok City skyline. It was beautiful.
My first night in Bangkok I couldn’t sleep because of jet lag. Instead I practiced taking pictures with my camera on my balcony. Eventually, the sun began to creep up over the skyline. Flashes of light broke through as the clouds began to emerge behind the city buildings. The sky began to bleed a faint pink. It was a surreal moment for me- my first morning on the other side of the world, and one of the most beautiful sceneries I had ever seen in my life. In that breathtaking moment I couldn’t help feeling like God always knew that I'd be standing right there. On that balcony. Thousands of miles from home. I don’t remember what I prayed, but I know I thanked Him for the life I left behind and the life he had in store for me. With my tripod, I took a panoramic picture [It’s posted on my blog].
Hours later I already began to feel edgy in my room. The air conditioner had only one temperature. Ice cold. When it was off it felt too humid. I decided to try to be adventurous and venture out of my room. So I made my way down to the lobby. A glass security door separated the elevators and the lobby. I tried to open it three or four times but it wouldn’t budge. From the other side of the glass the security guard shouted out directions to me in Thai, but I couldn’t understand him so I kept trying to yank the door open. There was actually a button next to the door that unlocked it. Oops. I guess I was just a little nervous.
I walked up and down the lobby hallway a few times. On one end there was a salon, a furniture store and a market. The opposite way led to a pool hall, a Laundromat and a worn down gymnasium.
Just past the Laundromat there were steps that led outside where a dozen motorbikes were parked. It was an underpass for cars to pass thru to the other side of the building. Part of the underpass was cordoned off with a wall and a sign that said “Rompo Gym”. There were pictures of dozens of Muay Thai fighters pasted to the wall. The sign said:
“Training time: 4-6pm If you want to train and look at gym call…”
Hmmm. I peaked inside and saw a gym that looked like something out of Bloodsport. There were two rings on either side with about 7 or 8 punching bags scattered throughout. Concrete floors, dirty mirrors, puddles of water, and rusted weights. On the walls were old photos of boxers holding up belts. It smelled like the sweat had dried onto the walls. A gargantuan man in Thai boxing shorts was kicking the stuffing out of one of the bags. Two others were sparring in the ring.
“Huup! Huup!” He let out a yell every time he unleashed one of his kicks. I thought of that no neck guy in Bloodsport who could take a man’s life with his bare hands. One of the guys started speaking to me in Thai and started making his way towards me.
I smiled and turned around back to the hotel.
***
In my room I picked up the receiver and for the fourth time, tried to dial the number of my boss Mary **names have been changed for the safety of believers**. It was still Friday morning and I hadn’t slept the whole night (jet lag) since I arrived around 3 am. I guess I was too excited. I didn’t know that in Thailand you were required to dial “0” whenever making a call to a cell phone. But the paper that my ***- USA contact gave me said “02”. So every time I pressed the wrong number the phone kept sending me to the front desk of my building and a soft-spoken Thai woman would answer. She kept trying to give me instructions, but I couldn’t understand a word she said. Oops again. I did this a number of times before I finally got thru to Mary at ***.
“Good morning Tita Mary!”
“Good morning EJ. Are you awake now?”
“Yes. I have been trying to call but it was not working…”
Mary said she would send someone to pick me up and I hung up the phone. 30 minutes later a skinny, scraggly Laotian showed up in front of the hotel. John had a wide smile and teeth that pointed out in at least 3 or 4 directions. His face reminded me of a Southeast Asian version of Alfred E. Neuman, that fictional character on the cover of MAD magazines. He had a leathery complexion.
“Hello I am EJ.” Like a dummy I put my hands together and bowed my head. I had read a book on Thailand before I left and it said that's how people say hello. He wasn’t even Thai! Oops again.
“Ookay.” John said as he turned and walked down the street to hail a cab.[I learned later that John was actually the pastor of a Laotian church. He is a well-traveled believer who does a lot for the kingdom.]
It was now daylight and this was my first chance to see Bangkok from the street level. As we rode the 1-kilo over to the *** office, a couple times I almost screamed. Apparently in Bangkok there is no right of way. People drive like they’re playing bumper cars at Knott’s Berry Farm. Except somehow, one person knows to stop right before impact. In addition over half the people are fearless motor bikers who pummel through traffic with no discernable regard for their own lives. I almost had a heart attack. At the office I opened the creaky blue gate and stepped into the driveway. There was an old van with a sticker that said “Christ to Thailand” and a rusted badminton net stood against the wall. I was greeted immediately by hoarse barking.The dog, named Ping-an (Peace in English), was a lot uglier than my puppy back home.
“He’s just saying hello,” John said.
The offices are actually two adjacent homes, which mirror each other perfectly. The house furthest from the gate uses the second floor to house 6 or 7 missionaries. I planned to move from my building into the house. It would be cheaper and I could get to know the workers.
I slid open the glass door...
(a video log from September 9)
Time: 2:30 am Bangkok time just after I was dropped off by the Jabba guy
The creaky elevator labored its way up to the eighth floor of the building. It gave a slight ding and the doors grinded itself open. As I stepped into the expansive white-tiled hallway, the fluorescent lights cast an ominous mood. Down the long hallway, sets of shoes were placed neatly just outside most of the doors. My steps echoed as I made my way to the second to last room. Room 824.
My room was bare but spacious (a bed, two tables, and a dresser). It was actually larger than what I was used to. The air conditioning hummed silently as I leaned my luggage against the wall. It wasn’t exactly Motel 6,but it was accommodating. I even had a balcony. The view was breathtaking. I could see the entire Bangkok City skyline. It was beautiful.
My first night in Bangkok I couldn’t sleep because of jet lag. Instead I practiced taking pictures with my camera on my balcony. Eventually, the sun began to creep up over the skyline. Flashes of light broke through as the clouds began to emerge behind the city buildings. The sky began to bleed a faint pink. It was a surreal moment for me- my first morning on the other side of the world, and one of the most beautiful sceneries I had ever seen in my life. In that breathtaking moment I couldn’t help feeling like God always knew that I'd be standing right there. On that balcony. Thousands of miles from home. I don’t remember what I prayed, but I know I thanked Him for the life I left behind and the life he had in store for me. With my tripod, I took a panoramic picture [It’s posted on my blog].
Hours later I already began to feel edgy in my room. The air conditioner had only one temperature. Ice cold. When it was off it felt too humid. I decided to try to be adventurous and venture out of my room. So I made my way down to the lobby. A glass security door separated the elevators and the lobby. I tried to open it three or four times but it wouldn’t budge. From the other side of the glass the security guard shouted out directions to me in Thai, but I couldn’t understand him so I kept trying to yank the door open. There was actually a button next to the door that unlocked it. Oops. I guess I was just a little nervous.
I walked up and down the lobby hallway a few times. On one end there was a salon, a furniture store and a market. The opposite way led to a pool hall, a Laundromat and a worn down gymnasium.
Just past the Laundromat there were steps that led outside where a dozen motorbikes were parked. It was an underpass for cars to pass thru to the other side of the building. Part of the underpass was cordoned off with a wall and a sign that said “Rompo Gym”. There were pictures of dozens of Muay Thai fighters pasted to the wall. The sign said:
“Training time: 4-6pm If you want to train and look at gym call…”
Hmmm. I peaked inside and saw a gym that looked like something out of Bloodsport. There were two rings on either side with about 7 or 8 punching bags scattered throughout. Concrete floors, dirty mirrors, puddles of water, and rusted weights. On the walls were old photos of boxers holding up belts. It smelled like the sweat had dried onto the walls. A gargantuan man in Thai boxing shorts was kicking the stuffing out of one of the bags. Two others were sparring in the ring.
“Huup! Huup!” He let out a yell every time he unleashed one of his kicks. I thought of that no neck guy in Bloodsport who could take a man’s life with his bare hands. One of the guys started speaking to me in Thai and started making his way towards me.
I smiled and turned around back to the hotel.
***
In my room I picked up the receiver and for the fourth time, tried to dial the number of my boss Mary **names have been changed for the safety of believers**. It was still Friday morning and I hadn’t slept the whole night (jet lag) since I arrived around 3 am. I guess I was too excited. I didn’t know that in Thailand you were required to dial “0” whenever making a call to a cell phone. But the paper that my ***- USA contact gave me said “02”. So every time I pressed the wrong number the phone kept sending me to the front desk of my building and a soft-spoken Thai woman would answer. She kept trying to give me instructions, but I couldn’t understand a word she said. Oops again. I did this a number of times before I finally got thru to Mary at ***.
“Good morning Tita Mary!”
“Good morning EJ. Are you awake now?”
“Yes. I have been trying to call but it was not working…”
Mary said she would send someone to pick me up and I hung up the phone. 30 minutes later a skinny, scraggly Laotian showed up in front of the hotel. John had a wide smile and teeth that pointed out in at least 3 or 4 directions. His face reminded me of a Southeast Asian version of Alfred E. Neuman, that fictional character on the cover of MAD magazines. He had a leathery complexion.
“Hello I am EJ.” Like a dummy I put my hands together and bowed my head. I had read a book on Thailand before I left and it said that's how people say hello. He wasn’t even Thai! Oops again.
“Ookay.” John said as he turned and walked down the street to hail a cab.[I learned later that John was actually the pastor of a Laotian church. He is a well-traveled believer who does a lot for the kingdom.]
It was now daylight and this was my first chance to see Bangkok from the street level. As we rode the 1-kilo over to the *** office, a couple times I almost screamed. Apparently in Bangkok there is no right of way. People drive like they’re playing bumper cars at Knott’s Berry Farm. Except somehow, one person knows to stop right before impact. In addition over half the people are fearless motor bikers who pummel through traffic with no discernable regard for their own lives. I almost had a heart attack. At the office I opened the creaky blue gate and stepped into the driveway. There was an old van with a sticker that said “Christ to Thailand” and a rusted badminton net stood against the wall. I was greeted immediately by hoarse barking.The dog, named Ping-an (Peace in English), was a lot uglier than my puppy back home.
“He’s just saying hello,” John said.
The offices are actually two adjacent homes, which mirror each other perfectly. The house furthest from the gate uses the second floor to house 6 or 7 missionaries. I planned to move from my building into the house. It would be cheaper and I could get to know the workers.
I slid open the glass door...
(a video log from September 9)
Welcome to Bangkok
***narrative journal***
Time: 1:30am (11:30pm PST)
The flight here was somewhat of an adventure *for more refer to video log on 9-3*
Time: 1:30am (11:30pm PST)
The flight here was somewhat of an adventure *for more refer to video log on 9-3*
I arrived at Bangkok very much blind. Before we took off out of Taipei, the flight attendants had to slap a sticker on me recognizing me as a special passenger. I received early entry and was escorted to my seat. Truthfully, I could hardly see and I did enjoy the special treatment ☺. After everyone got off the plane the airline escorted me and a middle-aged Thai native (who was in a wheelchair) through the airport. His name was Kris.
When we met he said, “My name is Kris. K-R-I-S.”
He was actually from Chino Hills. As we were walking I stopped to go to the restroom and I almost went into the woman’s restroom. Luckily, he stopped me or else I totally would have reenacted that one commercial where the lady walks into the men’s room!
I guess you could say we were the lame and the blind. His English was very broken and he didn’t say much, but he was an exuberant guy. I think he mostly knew the bad words, because he mostly just cussed whenever I asked him a question.
Our escort led us through customs (we didn’t have to wait in line) and to the baggage claim. Luckily as soon as we got there I was able to make out on the conveyor belt the form of my luggage, which had my spare contacts. I quickly grabbed the case, unlocked it, opened it and retrieved a contact lens. Once my vision came back into focus, I was so relieved. I could see!
The whole situation made me realize how much I need to depend on God. I know losing my contacts was just an accident, but I guess I’m a thinker. The situation made me think of how, as Christians we are called to live by faith. In Hebrews it defines faith as “being certain of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”. If you know me, in a lot of ways I can be a high control person. I like to micromanage things to give me assurance of a favorable outcome. Perhaps in some way God was reminding me, as I entered Bangkok, that faith is not about what I can control, but trusting that God works out every situation for his glory and my good. I’m reminded that as I seek to grow and follow God’s plan for my life I will have to live by faith and not by sight.
Our escort loaded Kris’s and my baggage onto one cart. As we walked toward the exit I noticed a rather large, Jabba looking man with a sign that said “Ethnos Asia”. I waved to him. He didn’t speak that much English. He came over and I unloaded my lugged from the cart. Kris had told me to tip our escort $5.00, 204 baht. I didn’t know then that that’s actually a pretty large tip, maybe worth 4 or 5 meals.
I shook Kris’ hand and thanked him for his help. He asked for my number but I didn’t have one yet, so I wrote my email on one of his boxes. I said goodbye to Kris, my first friend in Thailand.
The big guy and I walked to his car. At about 2 am the air was warm and slightly humid. As we drove into the city, I dozed in and out. I tried to make small talk, but after one or two tries it became kind of pointless. He had the AC blasting. I tried to make things out, but it was too dark. The only thing I really noticed was that the license plates had funky writing and that I was sitting on the left-side front seat, but the steering wheel was on the right side. Weird.
When we met he said, “My name is Kris. K-R-I-S.”
He was actually from Chino Hills. As we were walking I stopped to go to the restroom and I almost went into the woman’s restroom. Luckily, he stopped me or else I totally would have reenacted that one commercial where the lady walks into the men’s room!
I guess you could say we were the lame and the blind. His English was very broken and he didn’t say much, but he was an exuberant guy. I think he mostly knew the bad words, because he mostly just cussed whenever I asked him a question.
Our escort led us through customs (we didn’t have to wait in line) and to the baggage claim. Luckily as soon as we got there I was able to make out on the conveyor belt the form of my luggage, which had my spare contacts. I quickly grabbed the case, unlocked it, opened it and retrieved a contact lens. Once my vision came back into focus, I was so relieved. I could see!
The whole situation made me realize how much I need to depend on God. I know losing my contacts was just an accident, but I guess I’m a thinker. The situation made me think of how, as Christians we are called to live by faith. In Hebrews it defines faith as “being certain of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”. If you know me, in a lot of ways I can be a high control person. I like to micromanage things to give me assurance of a favorable outcome. Perhaps in some way God was reminding me, as I entered Bangkok, that faith is not about what I can control, but trusting that God works out every situation for his glory and my good. I’m reminded that as I seek to grow and follow God’s plan for my life I will have to live by faith and not by sight.
Our escort loaded Kris’s and my baggage onto one cart. As we walked toward the exit I noticed a rather large, Jabba looking man with a sign that said “Ethnos Asia”. I waved to him. He didn’t speak that much English. He came over and I unloaded my lugged from the cart. Kris had told me to tip our escort $5.00, 204 baht. I didn’t know then that that’s actually a pretty large tip, maybe worth 4 or 5 meals.
I shook Kris’ hand and thanked him for his help. He asked for my number but I didn’t have one yet, so I wrote my email on one of his boxes. I said goodbye to Kris, my first friend in Thailand.
The big guy and I walked to his car. At about 2 am the air was warm and slightly humid. As we drove into the city, I dozed in and out. I tried to make small talk, but after one or two tries it became kind of pointless. He had the AC blasting. I tried to make things out, but it was too dark. The only thing I really noticed was that the license plates had funky writing and that I was sitting on the left-side front seat, but the steering wheel was on the right side. Weird.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Hate it or Love it
***narrative journal***
time: Sept. 3, 2008 5:45 PST
I was sitting on the hard floor doing a video log when the flight attendant’s voice cackled from the speakers, echoing across the hallways of the airport terminal. Her English was choppy.
“Eva Air welcomes all passengers to board flight BR 0011 to Taipei, Taiwan…”
It was about 5:45 on a Wednesday afternoon in Los Angeles. I lifted my Dodger hat over my head and ran my palm across my recently buzzed hair. It was finally time to go. I was about to get on the plane and spend the next seven months in every imaginable part of Southeast Asia. No more In N’ Out burgers. I looked out the window and said goodbye to Laker basketball and goodbye to So Cal beaches.
As I got in line, Los Angeles’ diversity quickly disappeared. The passengers were all Asian and spoke their own language. While the line progressed, I gripped my blue passport and tucked my boarding pass in at the picture page. I looked around and noticed that most of the other traveler’s passports were green. I realized then that most of them were going back to their homes, while I was leaving mine.
The crowd grew thicker and more compressed as I neared the front. At that moment I noticed a new scent. It was distinct and unfamiliar. It was the smell of a new and very different culture. A culture with its own food, language and customs. In preparation, I had read enough about Asian culture to have a basic understanding of the Eastern mindset, but the scent was something that took me by surprise.
The summer before my senior year in college I took a course called Intercultural Communication. The class dealt with the adjustment process for expatriates who work in other countries. In that class I learned that people who work/visit another country develop a relationship with that culture. They can love it or hate it. They can separate themselves and maintain their old perspective. Or they can integrate, becoming a hybrid of the old and new- a fresh face in the adoptive setting.
Standing in line, I had a moment to decide how I wanted to approach my relationship with this new culture. I quietly said a prayer asking God to allow me to love the people deeply and see them through his eyes. I took a deep breath and embraced the culture, its people and its aroma. My turn in line came and I stepped forward and handed my passport to the flight attendant. She checked me in and I strode down the entryway, clutching my backpack tightly against my shoulders. The corridor was long and I couldn’t see exactly what lay ahead, but I felt expectant. I was ready…
Prayer Requests:
1) Fundraising: I am still waiting for many to send their support. The Lord has been generous in providing this opportunity and I am confident that he will supply exactly the funds I need. Pray that God would move people to support my mission monthly.
2) Persecuted church: Upon arrival I attended a staff meeting where we received updates on the work in the different countries. The persecution is intense, particularly in Laos. Pray for their perseverance and pray that God can use my feeble skills to be their advocate.
3) Thai government: is currently unstable due to an uprising. The situation has leveled off since I have arrived and it hasn’t reached a “coup” status. Pray that the situation will resolve.
4) Jet lag! I had a tidal wave of culture shock today. I need a church community and friends ☺.
time: Sept. 3, 2008 5:45 PST
I was sitting on the hard floor doing a video log when the flight attendant’s voice cackled from the speakers, echoing across the hallways of the airport terminal. Her English was choppy.
“Eva Air welcomes all passengers to board flight BR 0011 to Taipei, Taiwan…”
It was about 5:45 on a Wednesday afternoon in Los Angeles. I lifted my Dodger hat over my head and ran my palm across my recently buzzed hair. It was finally time to go. I was about to get on the plane and spend the next seven months in every imaginable part of Southeast Asia. No more In N’ Out burgers. I looked out the window and said goodbye to Laker basketball and goodbye to So Cal beaches.
As I got in line, Los Angeles’ diversity quickly disappeared. The passengers were all Asian and spoke their own language. While the line progressed, I gripped my blue passport and tucked my boarding pass in at the picture page. I looked around and noticed that most of the other traveler’s passports were green. I realized then that most of them were going back to their homes, while I was leaving mine.
The crowd grew thicker and more compressed as I neared the front. At that moment I noticed a new scent. It was distinct and unfamiliar. It was the smell of a new and very different culture. A culture with its own food, language and customs. In preparation, I had read enough about Asian culture to have a basic understanding of the Eastern mindset, but the scent was something that took me by surprise.
The summer before my senior year in college I took a course called Intercultural Communication. The class dealt with the adjustment process for expatriates who work in other countries. In that class I learned that people who work/visit another country develop a relationship with that culture. They can love it or hate it. They can separate themselves and maintain their old perspective. Or they can integrate, becoming a hybrid of the old and new- a fresh face in the adoptive setting.
Standing in line, I had a moment to decide how I wanted to approach my relationship with this new culture. I quietly said a prayer asking God to allow me to love the people deeply and see them through his eyes. I took a deep breath and embraced the culture, its people and its aroma. My turn in line came and I stepped forward and handed my passport to the flight attendant. She checked me in and I strode down the entryway, clutching my backpack tightly against my shoulders. The corridor was long and I couldn’t see exactly what lay ahead, but I felt expectant. I was ready…
Prayer Requests:
1) Fundraising: I am still waiting for many to send their support. The Lord has been generous in providing this opportunity and I am confident that he will supply exactly the funds I need. Pray that God would move people to support my mission monthly.
2) Persecuted church: Upon arrival I attended a staff meeting where we received updates on the work in the different countries. The persecution is intense, particularly in Laos. Pray for their perseverance and pray that God can use my feeble skills to be their advocate.
3) Thai government: is currently unstable due to an uprising. The situation has leveled off since I have arrived and it hasn’t reached a “coup” status. Pray that the situation will resolve.
4) Jet lag! I had a tidal wave of culture shock today. I need a church community and friends ☺.
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