I know you!

The purple shades of morning had not yet cast their rays against the gray sky.
As a bustling city began to show signs of waking early on a Sunday morning, we departed for a short journey into the outskirts of a nearby village.
We must have looked like a scene from a circus as all eleven of our teammates (including four adults and seven children) poured out of our vehicle when we reached our destination.
We appeared to be at the intersection of two nondescript, dusty roads. There was a large, fairly-new looking, white building sitting in the corner of the interchange surrounded by a high cement wall along its perimeter. There were no people around and no noise to be heard except for the rare “cock-a-doodle-do” from roosters roaming somewhere beyond the nature which blocked sight of our surroundings. The morning was still and calm, and we felt the heat descending around us as the sun began to make its daily climb. The heat is one reason why this gathering group gets such an early start and why we had made our trek there before the break of day. With no air conditioning inside the gathering group’s two-story structure, it’s nearly impossible to bear the temperature later in the day.
I was struck by the serenity of the setting. Surely there was activity and life going on somewhere nearby, I thought to myself, but it was so peaceful I began to have doubts.
Then from the corner of my eye, I spotted a slender, aged man appear from the greenery beyond. He walked to small covered shelter that I had not yet noticed and pulled on a long rope hanging from above. All of a sudden, a bell began to toll. The sound produced by this single bell, hidden beneath its shelter, was loud yet ironically muted. It wasn’t the type of ringing that hurt your ears or grated on your nerves. It was the kind of sound that melts your heart emoting images of a bygone historical era.
As the bell rang, people began pouring into street one by one as they made their way to this gathering group building. I couldn’t figure out where they were all coming from. It wouldn’t be until later that day that I would discover village homes in the distance camouflaged by the greenery around the area.

The service that morning was with a tribal group known for their long-standing relationship with Americans and their fluency in English. After having only been in this country for three months and lacking any conversant skills in their language, it would be almost impossible to do any kind of “seed sowing” or training without their knowledge of OUR language. (I keep reminding myself that you can’t learn a tonal language overnight. In time, it will come.)

There’s a passage in the Good Book that Father has seen fit to put in my path continually in the last few weeks. It was on the t-shirt of a young man that we met during Water Festival (see previous blog), it was the point in a message I was recently listening to on the internet, and then, on this Sunday morning as I ascended into the interior of this gathering group building, I discovered it on some signage hanging from the rafters. I knew that, once again, He was speaking to me.
In the sixth verse of the fourteenth chapter of the book of John, the Son is answering some questions from his followers. In this passage He says, “I am the way and the truth and the life.”
You know, Father has many names, and I’ve always enjoyed studies focused on His names prior to coming to this new country. Now, I’m even more fascinated by the names used for Him here which take on completely new meanings. Because the people here believe in many gods, we have to use names to distinguish when we’re speaking of the One True God. Those titles include the Most High God, the Creator God or, my personal favorite, the Eternal God (towerah pay yah thakin).
Names are special. To call someone by their name is to say, “I know you.”
Now, I’ve never professed to be a theologian, but what I think He is saying here in this passage is huge. The Son could have expressed who He was using specific, identifiable names, yet He answered the disciples’ question using broad, generic terms.
When we call upon the name of the Lord using any of his many names to give Him glory and praise, we are saying, “We know you. We want to know you more. We recognize who you are.” But when He says, “I am the way and the truth and the life,” he is saying to Us, He – knows – US! He knows ME!
As I sat in this desolate building in, what felt like, the middle of nowhere I was struck by the thought that He knows right were I am.
When you move from a town of 5,000 to a city with more than 5 million, it’s easy to feel lost. Sometimes I’ve even wondered “what in the world am I doing here?”
I think that’s why Father keeps putting this Good Book passage in my path. I think He’s telling me that He knows where I am and why I am here. He knows my direction and my purpose. He knows my history and my future. He knows me.

When this realization dawned on me sitting in my pew, while sweltering in the morning heat, I knew I had to come home and write down this message to share with others. After all, this message is not just for me. He wants you to know that He knows you too. Wherever you are. Whatever you’re doing. Regardless of your past, your faults, or the path you’ve taken to where you are now, He wants you to know that He knows you and He loves you.

I’ve seen the Father go through unbelievable methods to get a message to someone who needs to hear it. I can’t help but wonder if everything I experienced this morning was not just for me, but maybe for someone else too.
See, you don’t even have to move to a third-world country to get the message like I did. But heed my warning, if you don’t listen to Him, He may just send you here to get your attention. :)

Surely my cup runneth over

I’ve heard “Thingyan” described as an Asian Mardi Gras, but it’s just not the same.

The Water Festival is a celebration of this country’s new year. Lasting four or five days, people of all ages stand on the sides of the street or even elaborately built stages to spray water on other people driving, biking or walking down the road.
There are little kids with plastic, colored bowls scooping water out of giant drums to toss on the passersby. There are also long hosepipes stretching out to the street from the homes nearby used to spray water. I’ve seen everything from empty cans to ornate water guns wielded to splash water.

People cram into flatbed trucks, jeeps and open top buses just to drive down the road and get sprayed. Almost every street has spray stations set up by the people who live nearby. We live on one of the main streets through our city, and I can see nearly 10 spray stations from my bedroom window.

It’s almost impossible to go anywhere because the streets are clogged and jammed with all the people and vehicles.

You’d never know it is the dry season here because the streets are puddled with water.

There’s music blaring from loud speakers, and it’s, in general, a party atmosphere.

The festival is a celebration of an ancient Buddhist holiday, but to say that Water Festival is promoted by Buddhists is about the same as saying the Easter Bunny is promoted by Christians. It’s more of a patriotic practice than religious celebration.

Thingyan can definitely be a hassle if you’re trying to get anywhere, and since every business (including grocery stores and gas stations) are closed for the week, it’s almost as if the whole country shuts down.

But there’s a blessing in disguise…

I remember after Katrina noting that without electricity and water, the residents all came out of their houses and really got to know their neighbors.

I feel the same about Thingyan. It’s been difficult to reach the people who live in our apartment building until this week. Normally they exist behind locked gates and we don’t see them, but this week, they’re all down on the street sitting, eating, chatting and having fun. It’s been a great opportunity for our family to establish connections with them and begin to share with them.

While the children are playing with the water, CJ and I have been able to sit with the parents and talk to them about their life. It’s through these connections that CJ was invited to go to a village just behind the main road where (they told him) no white person has ever visited. He was able to visit homes there and meet people, giving them Good Book tracts in their language. They invited him to come back again when he can.

Yesterday, I brought some popcorn down to the street as I watched my girls playing and sat next to a young mother and her toddler. The sweet child looked at me with curious eyes as I held out to her a handful of popcorn. Within minutes, the little girl was sitting in my lap munching from the bowl while I conversed with her mother using the little language I know. It’s just a start, I know, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, right?

The best part of the week though came when I encountered a young man coming out of our apartment building wearing a t-shirt that said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life!” I asked him if he knew the meaning of his shirt.

“No,” he answered me. The shirt belonged to a friend, and he couldn’t read English.

In the limited language that I knew, I tried to explain to him where the words came from and what they meant.

It was a difficult conversation and I wished that I could speak to him from my heart using his language. I was comforted in the knowledge that this is just the beginning and in time, I will be able to do just that.

Thingyan has been quite the experience. We’ve been exposed to an event and the underlying culture that are dear to this people. We’ve been soaked to the bone by all the youngsters who love spraying the foreigners while we worked to communicate and establish relationships with their parents and the other people here. But most importantly, we have made small steps towards open doors and hopefully open hearts that Father will use to spread His message and His love.

During Thingyan, the locals spray water to commemorate their new year, but it is our hope that they will come to know the Living Water that can overflow from their soul. Would you please pray that Father would grow the relationships with our new friends and that we would be able to share with them the promise of salvation through faith in Him? It is our hope that these are people that we’ll know not just for a few years, but for an eternity!

It's a powerful story...

“Mom…. I can’t sleep,” Mia pouted as she snuck into our bedroom.
“I know baby. I know,” were my words as I tried to comfort her unsuccessfully.
You expect it to be dark at night when you go to sleep, but darkness from a power outage has a completely different feel to it.
The darkness is not just an absence of light; it’s a stillness that almost takes your breath away.

At the grocery store yesterday, I saw a friend who asked me if I had heard about the upcoming power shortages?
“Uh, no. They’re turning off the power?”
“Yep,” she replied. Another friend had told her that we could begin to expect electricity 12 hours on followed by six hours off continually beginning April 1 through July.
“Woh…” was all I could say.
I did later learn that there was a sign posted on our bulletin board in our apartment building, but as we’re not yet able to read their script, it blended in with all the other signs that we can’t understand.
We’ve experienced a loss of power a few times since we’ve been here, but most were for just short periods, and they were unexpected from some kind of situation or accident – not planned in advance by the authorities to be turned off.
I hoped that my friend was wrong. Maybe she misunderstood. Maybe it didn’t mean OUR area. It’s the hot season after all! I rationalized a multitude of reasons why this maybe wouldn’t affect our home, and as I went throughout the rest of the day, I put the thought behind me.

Monday nights, CJ teaches English at a school downtown, so it’s just the girls and me for most of the evening.
We had made dinner – homemade pepperoni pizza – and we were still sitting at the table, stuffed from our delicious meal discussing which movie we wanted to watch when the lights went off.
“Well, no movie,” Mia said matter-of-factly. “What are we going to do now?”
I love the innocence of my children. She wasn’t worried about the food in the refrigerator. They didn’t know that our apartment was about to become very warm with no a/c or fans to even circulate the air.
Zoe was the first to grab a flashlight. “Let’s light some candles!” she said.
Have you ever tried to search for a lighter or some matches in the dark?
I knew we had brought one of those long gas-grill lighters, I just couldn’t remember where we had stored it.
Ultimately we decided to go take a walk outside. We needed some exercise anyway after that big dinner. We weren’t gone long though. Before we got too far down the road, Zoe spotted a big, black rat on the sidewalk ahead of us thanks to her handy flashlight, so we unanimously decided it would be best to go the other way. Quickly!
We walked a little in the other direction, but it was just too dark, so we called it a night and headed home. Thankfully, by the time we got there, CJ was walking in the door, and he knew just were the matches were.

Sleep was impossible that night – it was just soooo hot. Your skin is sticky from perspiration and the heavy, damp air clings to your body like a wet glove. The heat presses against you in such a way that makes it hard to breathe like you’re suffocating.
It’s almost painful to move, so you recline on the bed as still as possible. You lay there with your head against your sweat-soaked pillow wondering if you will ever see the light again.
I could hear Mia whining in her room. I knew my poor baby was miserable, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even help myself. We drank lots of water and put ice-filled cloths on our foreheads and necks. I would’ve put the girls in a bathtub of cool water if we had one, but we don’t.
“Mommmmmmmyyyyyyyyy, I’m hot…” she said. The temperature had reached 103 degrees that afternoon, so I didn’t doubt her anguish.
“Just lay very still and don’t move. It’s almost 11:00. Try to get some sleep,” I called to her from my room, not wanting to get up or move around.
Eventually, the whining stopped.
But then that made me worry. At least when she was whining, I knew she was ok.
Those motherly concerns kicked in like they had when we had just brought our new baby home from the hospital. Back then, I would sneak into her room just to make sure she was still breathing.
And on this night, I did the same.
It took every ounce of energy I had in my body, but I rolled out of bed and crept to Mia’s room.
I knew Zoe was still awake… I could see the light from her flashlight making circles on the ceiling in her room.
I checked on Mia and she was fine. She was soaking wet, but she was sawing logs in her light sleep.

I crawled back to my own bed and positioned myself on top of the covers. Finally settled, I breathed out a deep sigh and closed my eyes when all of a sudden out of the blue, the power came back on.
“Thank you JESUS!” I shouted.
The first thing I did was grab the remote to the air con unit and set it to “COLD.”
Then CJ and I went about the place turning on the girls a/c units and checking the fridge.
We had survived our first real, serious power outage.
Ironically, this morning when our language teacher arrived she said, “I read you had your power out from 5:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m. last night.”
“Huh? Where did you read that?” we replied.
“There’s a sign by the elevator that tells you when your power will be off. Didn’t you know?”
“Ha. NO! But can you teach us how to read those signs so we’ll know when to expect our power to be off everyday and can plan in advance?”
“Of course!” she said.
Wouldn’t that have been helpful?

Oh well, we’re still learning, but it’s all good.
There are so many things I’ve realized I didn’t appreciate back home. Like never having to worry about the power going out. Complaining about being hot as I sat in an air-conditioned room. I never valued the fact that clean water came out of the faucet. When I wanted to brush my teeth, I turned the water on and did so. If I wanted to wash my face, I turned on the water and did so.
I never considered going to get a bucket of clean water to do those things. I never thought about having to boil water before I could wash dishes or even just to have hot water.
But I have learned that for many in the world, this is everyday life.
And honestly, I’m grateful to learn these lessons, even if it is the hard way. I’m grateful that my children are learning these lessons too.

You should try it sometime. You know, just turn off the power one day or night. Try not using faucet water – only bottled water or boiled water – for a whole day. Try going one night in the summer without a/c, and when you do, be reminded to speak to Father on behalf of the millions in the world who go without these conveniences on a regular basis.