Outside the Pen

“So I guess after 10 years of working as a missionary, you feel you’ve put in enough time for God, huh?  You’re not going to continue ministry?”  My friend’s words at the mission potluck caught me off guard.  I didn’t know what to tell him.  I had just told him of my plans to become a massage therapist after returning to the states.  Why did he think I wanted to give up ministry?  Quitting because I’d put in enough time for God?  I had never thought of working for God like that.  His words hurt.  With my mind whirling, I turned away to help my son, Keenan, balance his plate of food on his lap.  I desperately needed time to think.  I asked Keenan which food he liked best and pretended to help him take a bite.

I waited as long as I dared and then slowly turned back to my friend.  Taking a deep breath I began, “Well, I guess I don’t feel like I’m giving up ministry.  You are right in the fact that I won’t be ministering to people in the church as a pastor.  Working as a pastor is what everyone expects me to do because I studied theology in college.  But after a decade of ministering to people outside the church here in Cambodia I feel God wants me to do the same in America.  If I return as a pastor, I will minister only to those in the church.  That will be my predominant task at least.  But my heart is with those outside the walls of any church.  Some are there because they’ve been hurt by those in the church.  Some are there because they can’t believe in the god the church preaches about.  Some are there because their questions have not been answered by the church.  Some are there because they think God cannot and should not be contained in a church.  But regardless of the reasons they are not in church, they are God’s children.  God made them just like he made those in the church.  And he is always with them.  His command, “Go into all the earth,” rings in my ears every day.  Certainly he’s talking about beyond the walls of the church.  I believe God has called me to ministry – ministry to those not in a church.  Jesus said, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor, but sick people do….I didn’t come to invite good people to be my followers.  I came to invite sinners” Matt. 9:12-13.

“Yeah, okay.  I see,” nodded my friend.  But I wondered if he did.  Why have we made ministry something only a pastor does?  Why have we made ministry something only a pastor does in or from the church?  Why have we made ministry something only a pastor does, in or from the church, with those who already know God?  Shouldn’t “ministry” include serving those who don’t think like us, look like us, or smell like us?  And does a minister of the gospel have to be employed by the church?  Jesus wasn’t employed by the church.  Neither was Peter or John or James.  So if fishermen can fish for men, can’t a massage therapist touch people for the gospel?

As a pastor, by definition, I would care for the flock in a pen.  That’s an important role and one many are called to.  But the Good Shepherd said, “I have other sheep that aren’t in the sheep pen.  I must bring them together too, when they hear my voice.  Then there will be one flock of sheep and one shepherd” John 10:16.  At the bidding of the Good Shepherd, I came to Cambodia over 10 years ago.  He led me to his sheep not in his sheep pen.  At first I didn’t recognize them because they looked so different from me.  But now I see that all along they too have been his sheep and he has been their Shepherd.  Now the Good Shepherd is bidding me return to America.  There too, I believe, are many sheep that belong to God but are not in a sheep pen.  I want to find those sheep.  I want to understand those sheep.  I want to spend most of my time with those sheep. And standing in their world, seeing through their eyes, I want to ask the Good Shepherd to show them Good News.  For He is the Shepherd of us all.

Books and Hurricanes

This morning I road in Savouen’s tuk tuk through hectic Phnom Penh traffic to a place we’ve chosen to print the Bible story books.  There, to my joy, I found 19 boxes of shiny new books waiting for me.  Nine of the boxes contained New Testament Bible story books of which I’ve never seen.  They are beautiful!  The Pnong Bible Story Book Project is complete!

Over a decade ago when I first arrived in this country the Pnong people didn’t even have a written language.  By the grace of God Johanna and I entered the Pnong world, we learned to speak the Pnong language, we learned to see through the lens of the Pnong worldview, we learned to write and type the new Pnong written language, and we produced 8 Bible story books with 88 Bible stories in the Pnong written language, complete with beautiful illustrations.  And a few hours ago I held the entire Bible story set in my hands for the first time.

I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.  In one way or another we have been working toward this goal for more than 11 years.  And to see the books finally finished is a dream come true.  But somehow I felt like crying also.  Two young men from the copy shop silently carried the boxes of books out to the tuk tuk.  No one cheered.  There was no applause.  No one shook my hand or patted me on the back.  Yet the boxes they carried tugged at my heart.  They held a decade of my life – gone.  Each one of the thousands of pages represented hours and hours of difficult work, days and days of struggling on, months and months of sickness and darkness, and years and years of just trying to survive away from family and friends.

As I sit here writing, in a quiet apartment at ADRA, I long to be part of community.  When I cry I wish I could cry with others.  When I laugh I long to laugh with others.  And when I rejoice, like today with the books, I long to rejoice with others.  Now, just three weeks and two days from leaving Cambodia and returning to the states, I think that’s what I’m most excited about – being part of community again.

The past month has been a whirlwind for us.  We’ve been trying to finish the books, pack up all our belongings, and sell or give away anything we’re not taking back to America.  This past week, while waiting for the books, has been a tremendous blessing to us.  We’ve taken a few days of vacation to just look into each other’s eyes and enjoy the last few moments of life in Cambodia.  We took the kids to the beach over the weekend and came back to the water park on Tuesday.  The boys and I have spent more time with Johanna’s growing belly.  We sing to the little one inside, talk to him, and just tell him we love him.  Of course he could be a she.  But that’s what makes it fun.  We don’t know who waits inside.  But we do know the little one is part of our family and will join us soon.

The next three weeks will also be a whirlwind.  We plan to return Mondulkiri the beginning of next week.  We’ll have a few days to deliver the rest of our furniture to the different people who purchased it.  We hope to pack up the last cases we plan to take home with us.  And then we’ll have to give away everything that remains or hall it to the trash.

On October 7 a student missionary arrives from AFM.  It will be his job to film a documentary of our project in just a little over a week.  We are extremely excited about this documentary.  We hope our story, in film, will bless thousands of people with what God has done over the last decade among the Pnong.  But the timing is off.  Trying to make a documentary during the last few weeks of living in the country will be a serious challenge.  There will be so many other things to do, so many other people to say goodbye to, and so many other things to think about.  Yes, a whirlwind (or should I say a hurricane) is bearing down upon us.  Yet somehow, in the midst of it, we will need to find time to sit with our Pnong friends for the last time and listen to their hearts.  For no matter how many projects we operate, no matter how many books we print, no matter how many documentaries we make, sitting with these people is why we came.  Please pray for us during these last few weeks in Cambodia.

Braden

A little light goes out

“They had the same sickness he does,” Kay whispered, glancing down at the tiny baby in her arms.  “Why?  What have I done?”  The smoky hut was silent – a silence that hurts.  I cried with Kay and Chaw when their first son died.  He was a month old.  I ached for them as they struggled to survive the grief month after month.  A year later a baby girl joined them, but Kay remained fragile, nervous, and sick.  Two years later she finally smiled again with the birth of another boy.  But he lived only two months.  During the night, just like the first one, he began to cry; he struggled for breath, and then lay still.  Now another boy.  Now another month.  Now another sickness.  Kay and Chaw were scared!

“Why are my babies so small?” Kay looked up at me.  “Why are they easily sick?  We must have done something wrong.  We must have angered them again.”  I sat with Kay in that dark hut, feeling the presence of demons.  I told her again of Chief God.  I told her of his great love.  I told her how much he longs to help us.  “He loves us as much as you love your little son,” I told her as she held him close to her breast.  I have spent years with this family.  And every time I mention Chief God, they change the subject or even laugh.  Kay looked away.

I felt a bondage of evil there in that darkness so black and so gruesome it’s hard to even imagine.  Over time, the Pnong people have come to believe that new mothers must be very careful how they eat after giving birth to a baby.  They believe that eating the wrong food causes a great sin or fault to cover them.  Because of this great wrong, sickness and death will soon follow.  Some of the elders say certain types of fish will tarnish a new mother with guilt.  Some of the healers teach that most fruits and vegetables cause blame to fall upon new mothers and their babies.  Since no one knows for sure what is safe to eat, most new mothers eat only white rice for at least one month after having a baby.  Some continue this practice until the baby is six months old.  Most of these women drink only a small cup or two of water a day.  They become weak, pale, and sick; the babies struggle to thrive.  And the mothers cry out, “Why is my baby sick?  Why am I so weak?”

As I sat there with this terribly weak woman, watching her baby struggle for life, I became angry inside.  Someone, something, was holding Kay in bondage.  She was killing her own tiny one all the while believing she was protecting him.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to strangle that thing, that unseen demon of darkness deceiving this precious woman.

I asked Kay if I could pray.  All she would say was, “I don’t know.”  She looked around, scared.  I told her of Chief God’s power and offered to pray again.

“I don’t know.”

I knew I couldn’t force her.  I knew I shouldn’t pressure her.  But as I looked down at that precious little one I felt desperate.  I kept silently praying, “Lord, is there anything I can say or do?  Please break through to her.”

Daniel was with me that day and he stepped into the hut in the middle of this powerful struggle.  He didn’t know what was happening and began talking to Kay’s mother at the other end of the hut.  Suddenly, quietly, so soft I didn’t even understand at first, Kay said to me, “Talk.”

She then motioned up with her eyes.  I whispered, “Talk to Chief God?”  She glanced at her mother, still talking with Daniel, and then silently nodded.

And there in that hut I very quietly talked with the Author of all Life, the one who gives each of us breath.  I touched the baby’s head and presented him to his Maker.  Tears threatened to spill out as I plead for his life.  Though never speaking a word, Kay’s eyes told me she was thankful.  She smiled slightly and squeezed her lips tightly together as if to say, “I feel better.  I feel Him here.”

Two days later Johanna and I had the opportunity to visit again.  It was the first time we’d been to the village together on our motorcycle in over six years.  Our friend Kara, a student missionary in Cambodia, offered to watch our boys.  We were able to sit with Kay and talk of God.  This time her mother, father, and husband were out of the house.  Only her younger sister was there.  The younger sister began to laugh as we spoke of Chief God.  But this time the laughter faded away as she too listened to the stories of the Creator God.  We freely spoke of Chief God’s love and his power.  Kay listened with great interest.  Then I offered to speak with Chief God again.  This time she hesitated only briefly.  I placed my hand on the baby’s head and the tears threatened to come as I prayed.  I’m not sure what I said out loud but inside I was screaming, “Lord, please break through to Kay and her family.  Don’t let the forces of evil hold them in this darkness.  Spare this child’s life, Lord, if at all possible.  I love him though I don’t know him.  Save him Lord.  Save him!”

We left shortly after for a trip to the capital.  Three weeks later we returned, wondering what we’d find.  Kay and Chaw came to see us and their little one was with them.  “After you talked, his diarrhea went away,” Kay explained.  I wondered at her words.  Was she giving Chief God credit?

Later Chaw added, “As soon as you spoke with Chief God, he started getting better.  And the whole time you’ve been gone he’s been well and happy and nursing so much.”

“Will you speak with Chief God again?” Kay asked with a worried look.  “Since yesterday he hasn’t been nursing.  That’s when I became hot.  I’m afraid my fever is making him not want to nurse.  See?”  She pulled up her blouse and placed the nipple in her infant’s mouth.  He slowly began to suck.  Then he paused and stopped as if he didn’t have the energy to continue.  “Please talk with Chief God again.”

Johanna and the boys came out on the porch and we gathered around the baby together.  Each of us prayed for the baby.  “Please make the baby better,” Keenan prayed.  Jaden just squeezed his eyes tightly closed and moved his mouth as if talking.  After a long silence he proclaimed, “Amen.”  Kay and Chaw smiled.  The boys went back inside with Mommy and came out with a baby blanket, several sets of clothes, a little stuffed doggy with a Santa cap, and a baby rattle.  Keenan and Jaden handed each one to the baby with little words of love.  Both Kay and Chaw seemed deeply touched.  “They care so much,” Kay exclaimed, cutting her words off with emotion.

After a long visit Kay seemed uncertain when her husband said, “We’ve got to go now.  It may rain.”  She sat there hesitant to leave.  I wondered what she was thinking.  Finally, as her husband stood, she looked up at me and said, “Would you talk one more time?”  I smiled and once again placed both hands on the baby and presented him to his Father and Maker.  I reminded them that they too could talk to Him at any time.  They both nodded.  Then we all waved good-bye as they left.

My phone rang sometime after eight.  “He’s terribly sick Mbut Keenan.  He can hardly breathe.  We’ve been talking to Chief God – both of us.  I don’t think you can make it to our village in the rain.  We can’t get out now with our motorcycle.  But we wanted you to know.”

I called Daniel.  We jumped in the truck.  We crawled along the treacherous wet roads in the dark.  At the top of the last hill before descending into the village we prayed about what to do.  Going further could mean not being able to come back up.  But could they walk up the slippery slope in the rain.  We finally decided to risk it.  Moments later, after nearly sliding into two deep washouts on either side of the truck, we slid to a stop, unable to go further and unable to turn around.  Rain began to pour on our roof.  We had made it into the village, but we would not be returning soon.  We knew we were stuck.  Discouraged, worried, and confused we got out of the truck and walked into the dark village.

“Mbut Keenan, did you hear?” a voice called out of the night.  “The baby is dead.  He stopped breathing.  There’s nothing we can do.  His soul is gone.  He didn’t want to stay here anymore.”  The sky was dark.  The cries were sore.  Words were few and hard.  I offered my presence.  The night was long.

The fire begins to burn

For over a decade I’ve struggled to understand God’s ways here in the mission field.  He’s not a God we can fully understand.  He cares more about life eternal then momentary death.  He cares more about the heart then the body.  He performs fewer miracles Than I ask for but miraculously works in spite of me.  He uses darkness to reveal light, death to breathe life, and doubt to grow faith.

Even so, it was hard listening to Kay and Chaw cry that night as I swung in my hammock. As they sat looking at their tiny baby, lying there like he was asleep, they kept saying, “He didn’t want to stay with us. We don’t know how to be parents.” I hurt too. I kept seeing my own baby lying there. Once again I realized our hearts weren’t designed to hurt that way. We weren’t designed to experience death. That night, in the dark thatched hut, Death laughed in our faces.

I left the next morning discouraged and confused. Yet I also felt certain that God knew what he was doing. My mind went back to Koin. I cried when he left us. I cried for months. I hadn’t understood. I felt God was wrong. I’ve never fully recovered. My heart still hurts. But I do now see that God had a plan. And I’m learning to trust him. So I squeezed their hands goodbye and left, leaving them with God.

That next week I continued translation work with Plong. Knowing that our time is short in this country, I had told him I would work as long as he wanted to work each day to finish the New Testament books. He said he could come at seven each morning and work until nine at night. I told Johanna what he had said and she agreed that we needed to get the books done. So for nearly two weeks we worked between 12 and 50 hours a day. Even so my mind kept going back to the village. I could hear Kay’s muffled sobs and see Chaw’s blank stare. I kept praying for them, but I didn’t know what to pray. All I could say was, “Lord, do what you want to do. Show them yourself.”

Seven days later I made my way to the village again.  This time Me Ta was with me.  Me Ta works for AFM in a closed country.  We stopped at Yau’s house.  She was making baskets again.  Her toothless smile, as she glanced up to see me, filled my heart with joy. “Mbut Keenan, it’s a good to see you.  Why have you been gone so long?”  We sat together like old times while Yau smoothed the bamboo reeds for her basket.  As Yau worked I told Me Ta of our years with Koin and Yau.

“Have you come for the funeral today?” she asked us.

My mind began to whirl.  “What funeral?”

“Can’t you hear all the people?” she asked, tipping her head towards a house further down the hill.  “It’s the seven-day ceremony for the baby who died last week.”

Suddenly I remembered.  It had been seven days.  Chills raced up and down my spine.  For I had surely forgotten about the seven-day ceremony, but I knew Someone else had remembered.  Shortly after, I dismissed myself, leaving Me Ta to work withYau, and made my way down through the village to Kay’s house.  I could hear many voices inside.  Some were laughing.  I knew some had already drunk too much.  I wondered what I would say to the mother and father.  So there, not far from the hut, I paused and looked up to the sky.  “Father, please walk with me now.  Please show me what to say.  Please show them yourself through me.”

Taking a deep breath, I ducked through the low doorway into the thatched bamboo hut.  Almost instantly I could hear people calling me throughout the hut.  They were excited.  They were happy to see me.  “Oh Mbut Keenan, it’s so good to see you!”  they shouted.  “It’s so good you’ve come.  It’s so good to have you here.”

Someone escorted me through the mass of people, mingling in the little hut, and offered me a place on the raised platform at the other end of the hut.  I felt like a guest of great honor.  Deu, Kay’s father, came over and offered me a cup of pop.  I knew everyone else was drinking Rice wine, and I smiled a thank you that he had remembered to give me pop instead.

Then Kay was sitting next to me.  She shook my hand as if deeply touched to see me.  “I knew you would come,” she said.  “I had a dream last night.  In my dream I saw you come today.  I’ve been waiting for you.  I knew you’d come.”

Once again I felt the chills tickling my spine.  I knew God wanted me here and I knew he wanted me here now.  I squeezed Kay’s hands.

“My baby has forsaken us.  He didn’t want me to care for him anymore.  But I want Chief God with me now.  You came when no one else came.  You stayed with us when no one else would stay with us.  You cared when no one else cared.  Many, even in this village, haven’t come to see us.  But you came even though it was raining.  You came even though it was night.  I want Chief God to be with us now.”

Then Rote found me with a loud cry.  She sat down beside me shaking my hand excitedly.  “I’m so happy to see you Mbut Keenan.  I want to tell you what happened today.  The Koreans visited our village.  They visited each of our homes.  They asked us if they could talk to Chief God for us.  We told them that we already know Chief God.  We told them we wanted them to talk with Chief God for us.  And so they did.  They prayed in Khmer and I could understand but they said.  They prayed that God would be with me.  They prayed he would keep me safe keeping healthy.  They prayed he would be at my fields and help them to grow well.  They prayed he would be with my children.  I could understand him.  I was so happy they wanted to talk to Chief God.  They are just like you.  They know Chief God.  And they were surprised that we know him to.”

“Yes, yes!”  Liu added.  “The Koreans came to my home too.  They asked me if they could talk with Chief God for me.  I told them I wanted them to.  They prayed just like that too.  I was so happy!  Mbut Keenan, they are just like you!”

Others from around the hut agreed with loud cries.  “Yes, yes!  They came to my home to.  They prayed for me to.  They are just like you.”

Not once in the past 10 years have I heard so many Pnong people talking about Chief God at once.  When we do talk of Chief God, it’s always in someone’s home.  Usually people seem nervous that another villager might be listening.  They ask questions in hushed tones.  Our conversation ends when a visitor steps in.  But this time was different.  The village was together in one place and everyone was talking about Chief God at once.  I wondered what had happened.  Whatever it was, I knew something had changed.

As the villagers shared with me one by one what had happened, I began to piece the story together.  19 Koreans had come the day before to share their faith with the villagers.  One couple spoke Khmer, but the others only spoke English.  They handed out clothes and medicine.  They handed out little hand-held signs with a picture of their group on the front.  At the top it said “God loves Cambodia.”  They sang and danced for the villagers and freely offer their prayers.

Grandfather Maat, sitting with several other elders, called me over to sit by him.  “What does this little sign say?” he wanted to know.

The elders were watching me.  I realized that finding out what the sign said was important to them.  I felt honored to help them.  “Grandfather, the sign says ‘chief God loves Cambodia’.”

“Oh!” they all yelled together.  They were nodding their heads as if to say, “That’s very good!  That’s very good!”  I smiled.

Just then Daniel arrived.  He too had forgotten about the seven-day ceremony.  I’d sent a message and as soon as he got it he made his way to the village.  The villagers received him in the same way they had received me.  Everyone began to yell for joy and reach out to touch his hands.  I sat back watching with interest.  I was glad to see them receive him so warmly.  They don’t know him well yet, and can’t communicate with him clearly, yet they love them.  Soon two tipsy old men and an old woman were trying to teach to how to speak.  Unfortunately, they were all speaking at the same time and I could tell Daniel wasn’t catching much.  I chuckled to myself as I watched, remembering my language learning years.

Then Ndaop made his way to me.  Ndaop is Kay’s older brother.  I haven’t seen him for years.  During the first few years of our time and Boan to Village, Ndaop had gotten married and moved to Raveh Village.  Several months later though, his wife died suddenly.  He moved back in with his parents for a period of time after that, and then disappeared again.  I asked his family about him, and they told me that he had found another wife in Raveh village.  Now he came over to me to shake my hand.  He was shy.  It he seemed intent to speak with me.

“This is my family,” he said pointing to the woman beside him.  “This is my son and this is my daughter,” he said pointing to the children in the woman’s arms.  “My first wife died but now I have a family.  This is the wife you brought the buffalo to.  If you had not helped me I might not of been able to get married.  But you cared for us.  You always have.”

I’d almost forgotten.  But a distant memory came to mind as he spoke.  I’d been at work one day on the Bible story books when his father called me.  He asked if they could use my truck.  He said a young buffalo would die if I did not come quickly.  I hadn’t understood his words and I didn’t want to go.  I remember grumbling to Johanna about how irritating it was to have to stop my work on the books.  But I went.  Ndaop and his father wanted to use my truck to transport a young water buffalo from their village to Ndaop’s new village.  I remember feeling sorry for the creature as I bumped along the road.  But I also remember the joy on Ndaop’s face as we unloaded that Buffalo at his new house.  I hadn’t realized it was for us wedding ceremony.  And I hadn’t realized how much it meant to him for me to help him.

“You’ve always cared for us,” he said.  “When my brother was without milk, you provided formula.  When my other brother had TB, you helped him get medicine.  When my father broke his toe, you helped him get to Phnom Penh.  When Kay’s baby got sick, you came in the middle of the night even though it was raining.  You care.  You care.”  Then Ndaop shook my hand.  He nodded his head and continued shaking my hand.  I could tell you wish to honor me greatly.  I could tell how sincerely thankful he was that I loved his family.

I felt a bit uncomfortable receiving so much praise.  I got up and made my way back through the mass of people for breath of fresh air outside the hut.  I called Johanna told her of the events in the village.  I asked her to pray.  Then Kay’s mother, Chote, approached me.  She’d followed me outside the hut.  “Please, Mbut Keenan, stay and eat with us today.  I have made you a special meal.  I wish for you and your friends to eat with us today.  The food I will serve you is special.  None of our other guests are going to eat it.  I made it just for you.  I wish for you to eat with us today.”

At this she seemed choked up.  I could tell her tears were about to spill out.  “Oh Mbut Keenan, you have cared for us so much.  When my baby had no milk you brought formula.  He would’ve died.  When my young son had TB, you helped him find medicine.  He too would’ve died.  When my daughter cut her leg deeply, you took her to the hospital.  When my husband broke his toe, you helped him get to Phnom Penh.  You helped him recover.”  A tear trickled down her cheek and she reached up awkwardly to wipe it away.  “When my grandson lay dying, in the middle of the night, you came through the rain on the muddy roads because you cared.  Mbut Keenan, I wish for you to eat with us this day.  If you have one friend with you, I will feed that friend too.  If you have two friends with you, I will feed those two friends too.  So please call your friends.  Today you eat with me.”  Then she turned and walked back into the hut leaving me speechless.

Something special was happening and I didn’t know what exactly.  I just knew the chills were still chasing each other up and down my spine.  I also knew God was at work.  I realize I was a small part of some great plan.  So I walked back up the hill to Yau’s house and told Me Ta what was happening and invited her to the meal.  When we arrived back at the hut and ducked through the low doorway the crowd inside again received us with excited shouts of joy.  Liu came up to me and said, “Mbut Keenan, it’s to eat.  Come this way.  It’s already ready for you.”  She then took me by the hand and led me through the crowd of people.  They parted before us letting us through like royalty.  Stopping at the edge of the raised platform, Liu pointed toward the mat that had been prepared for us.  Three bowls of steaming Pnong rice called to me from the middle of the mat.  As I seated myself the far side of the mat I could smell the delicious Pnong soup before me.  I could see the green soup was made from cubed eggplant, sliced stems from the jungle, and some pumpkin leaves.  My mouth began to water.

Liu had returned back through the crowd to escort Daniel to the mat.  She did the same for Me Ta.  Then Liu told us, “Please eat now.  This food was made just for you.”  I scanned the faces around me to find Chote.  I finally found her not too far away nervously watching us as we tasted the food.  When I nodded and said, “This is delicious!”  she smiled shyly.  A few minutes later I noticed her walk over to Ndaop and whisper something to them.  He nodded and glanced at me.  He turned in our direction and made his way closer to her we sat.  I could tell he was thinking of what to say.  I wondered what his mother had told him and what he was now about to tell me.  He sat down on the raised platform in front of me and glanced up as if still thinking of how to say what was on his mind.  His mom began to whisper in his ear this is what he said:

“Mbut Keenan, you have always cared for us.  When my sister’s baby was sick you came even though it was raining.  You came in the middle of the night even though you are already asleep.  You came even though the roads are terrible and you didn’t know if you get stuck.  You came because you cared.  You stayed with us because you cared.  But you have done so much more than that.  When our youngest brother didn’t have mouth you brought formula to keep them alive.  When his older brother had a hurt leg for so many years you helped him find medicine.  When my younger sister cut her leg with an ax it took her to the hospital.  You cared.  When my first wife died and I had to remarry, you cared.  You came all the way out to my village carried the young water Buffalo all the way to my wife’s village because you cared.  When my father cut his toe and couldn’t walk, you paid for them to go to Phnom Penh and find a Dr.  You cared.  You always care.  You’re always willing to help.  It doesn’t matter if we call you in the day or the night, it doesn’t matter if the sun is shining or the rain is falling, it doesn’t matter if it’s cold or hot, you are always there for us.  You care.  You always care.”

Tears stung my eyes.  I didn’t know what to say.  Daniel commented, “It sounds like he’s talking about God.”  In that instance I realized that was exactly what he spoke of.  Ndaop was explaining my acts of love in amazement.  I realized he had never seen this type of love.  And I realized he was talking about Love Himself.  As he reminded me of each good deed I had done for the family I felt the sting of guilt.  For I hadn’t always help them out of love.  Their phone calls often came at bad times for me.  I’d had to leave my family behind, irritated and frustrated, and go to the village even though I didn’t want to go.  But each time I prayed they would see a love beyond myself – a love that only God embodies.  The family had never seemed terribly thankful.  I assumed they’d forgotten much of what I’d done over the years for them.  And I didn’t mind.  For I hadn’t loved them to get something out of it.  I loved them because that was my duty.  But I prayed they would see One who loved them for more than duty.  He loved them enough to give his life for them.  I prayed they would see Him through me.  Perhaps they had.

Ndaop glanced at his mother, uncertain of how to finish.  She nodded.  Then Ndaop reached out and shook my hand, nodding several times with a smile.  I didn’t know what to say or do.  So I shook his hand back then took another bite of rice and green soup.  I reached up to wipe a tear that had made its way out.  I felt awkward with everyone looking at me.  At the same time I felt affirmed beyond words.  For I felt this family was saying, “You’ve touched us deeply.  By coming to live here with us for the past decade you’ve shown us God’s love.”  I felt all my struggles and hardships for the past decade were worth it.

For the next half an hour we enjoyed the Pnong feast.  People crowded around us talking, laughing, and getting to know Me Ta.  Even Kay and Chaw were smiling.  For the Pnong the seven-day ceremony is a day to forget the sorrow and pain of death – a day to rejoice and move on.  Villagers, friends, and family come to help the family laugh again.  And they did.  I hoped our presence filled the family with joy.

At the end of the meal, I think the family and prepared to leave.  Ndaop motioned for me to follow him out the back door of the hut.  I followed him through the crowd of people and ducked through the back door.  He walked several paces and stopped his back to me.  I stepped up next to him and put my hand around his shoulder.  He shook his head and pressed his lips together as if he didn’t know what to say or how to say it.  He began the long speech over again.  He thanked me for helping his little brother who didn’t have milk.  He thanked me for helping his little brother who had TB.  He thanked me for helping his younger sister who had cut her leg.  He thanked me for helping his father who had cut his toe.  He thanked me for transporting the water buffalo he kept shaking his head and sighing.

“When you first came,” he said, “I didn’t know you cared so much.  I didn’t know you at all.  But over the years I’ve seen how much you care.  I’ve seen how much you love us.”  He had been drinking and his speech was slurred.  He seemed almost cry.  Again I felt uncomfortable.  I didn’t know what to say.  So I said nothing and continued to squeeze him close to myself.  But his mother came and stood next to us without a word.  We stood there together in silence.  “We’ll miss you so much when you go,” Ndaop finally blurted out.  I glanced up to see Chote biting her lip and nodding her head.

“Chief God asked me to come,” I explained.  “I know he will continue to watch over you and care for you.  He loves us like his own children.  Even though I won’t be here, he’ll never leave you.  You can talk to him any time.  He loves you so much!”  Ndaop and Chote nodded their heads but said nothing.  I prayed for them silently in that moment.  For remember, this family has never before asked for prayer.  This family has never before seemed interested in Chief God.  In a short time before, Kay told me, “I want Chief God close to me now.”

Just Liu and Pumrok approached me leading another woman by each arm.  I recognized her as Pri.  Pri is one woman I’ve never really to know in Boan Village.  She and her husband and family have never needed me to take them to the hospital.  I’ve visited them in their field a few times, but we’ve never talked about Chief God.  I’ve always hoped to have a chance to get to know them better.  I was surprised when Liu said, “Pri wants you to talk to chief God for her.  We’ve been telling her all about Him.”  Pumrok nodded with a big smile.

“Yes,” Pri said, “I do need Chief God to help me.  A jyak is after my daughter.  I’m so scared for her.  He’s angry with her because she married a Khmer man.  He loved her when she was younger and asked to marry her.  We didn’t give him permission and he became angry.  Now that she’s grown and married, he’s jealous.  He has come to eat her buffalo soul.  He won’t stop until she’s dead.  Liu and Pumrok have been telling me about Chief God.  Pumrok said she hasn’t seen a single jyak in her home since her husband died.  I want Chief God to be with me and help me protect my daughter too.  Will you come to my home and pray for my daughter?  When can you come to my home?”

I told Pri that I could come the next Monday.  Then I waved goodbye to the group and walked back up the hill to my truck.  But I kept wondering what had just happened.  Why had everyone been talking about Chief God at once?  No one seemed concerned or worried to talk about Him out loud.  Everyone seemed to be excited about praying to Chief God.  What was going on?  And why had Kay still been interested about knowing Chief God even though her baby died.  The events of the day were great mistreat to me.  And once again I realized I was part of a mysterious plan much bigger than myself.  Only God knew what he was doing – Chief God.

First steps

The following Monday I went in search of Pri.  I found her on the trail coming back from her field.  She explained that her daughter had had to go to another village that day.  She asked if I could come back another day and pray for her.  “Well, I can pray for her now,” I explained.  “We can talk to Chief God anywhere and anytime.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes, God’s Spirit is everywhere and he can hear us anytime and anywhere.  So if you don’t mind, I’ll pray for her right now.”

Pri smiled.  “Yes, that will be fine.  I’d like you to pray now.”

So right there on that trail leading back to the village, I lifted my voice to the Creator of the universe.  Pri watched me with open eyes.  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  She was fascinated to watch me talk with Chief God.  She’d heard so much about Him.  Those she knew well in the village had already asked him to be in their homes.  And they told her how much different their life was now that they’d asked him to be with them.  She wanted him to.  And this time she wasn’t basing that decision on her relationship with me.  Instead, she had heard of this God from her fellow villagers.

“Oh chief God,” I prayed.  “Please be with Pri’s daughter right now wherever she is.  Please protect her from anyone trying to hurt her.  If a jyak is after her, please protect her.  Make the jyak run away when he sees your presence with her.  If there are any evil spirits, witches, or other jyaks after her, or anyone trying to hurt her, please make them run away when they see you.  Please bring her back to this village safely.  We thank you that we can talk to you anytime.  Thank you for loving us as your children.  Thank you.”

My visit in Boan Village that morning was very short.  But I left a kind mother on that trail with a smile on her face.  I love watching someone turn to God for the first time.  He’s so wonderful isn’t he?  Is one never forget what it’s like turning to him for the first time.  Every time we talk to him should be like the first time.

About a week later I returned to Boan Village again.  I wasn’t prepared for what I faced.  People asked me to pray with them – in nearly every home.  Jyam begged me to come to her home and pray.  “You prayed from a long time ago when I was angry at my son.  He’d been drinking and I found myself so angry.  But after you prayed I felt so much better.  I found the anger in my heart had disappeared.  But recently I began to feel angry again.  This time I’m angry at my daughter.  She gets angry at me too.  We argue a lot.  We talk with Chief God once again?  Ask him to take the anger in my heart away again.”

Jyam wanted her teenage daughter present before we prayed.  Pumrok came to visit about that time.  So the three women I sat together and prepare to talk with Chief God.  “You hold your hands like this to talk with him,” Jyam said placing our palms together.  “I saw the Koreans did that when they prayed.  And you close your eyes too.”

The other two women looked at me.  “Yes, many people like to talk with Chief God this way,” I explained.  “But Chief God listens to us all the time no matter how we talk or when we talk or where we talk.  Sometimes I place my hands together too.  Sometimes I close my eyes.  But other times I don’t.  It’s really up to you.  He hears you no matter what.”

After we prayed together, Jyam said, “I’m so glad you’re praying in my house today.  Last time you prayed in Liu’s house.  I’m just glad today you’re praying here.”  I could see the women trying to figure out what it meant to pray to God.  As Animists they wanted to know how to pray to God.  Why?  Because the details of their ceremonies are important.  If they get the details wrong, one of the spirits may kill them.  And to an animist, location is important.  All spirits are territorial.  Praying in one place is not like praying another place.  But they were asking important questions – questions that would have to be answered for them to become followers of chief God.

Pumrok said, “I’d like you to come to my house and pray also.  I still haven’t seen any jyaks.  I know chief God is protecting me.  Can you please come back and pray again?”  Shortly after I was crawling the steps up into her house.  She opened the mat on the floor for us to sit on and placed a bowl of bread and pastries on it.  “These are from my son.  He came home last night.”

I was excited to hear that Lokru had come home.  He’s the young man I sent back to school after his father died.  I can send a couple in the states has agreed to sponsor him through this next year also.  He desperately wants to finish his last year of teachers training.

Pumrok then opened a bottle of pop.  She poured me a cup and then poured herself a cup.  I instantly recognized her actions as a small ceremony.  This is what she would do if a healer came to her home.  She was preparing for us to talk with chief God.  She knew I didn’t drink rice wine, so she was providing the next best thing.  She wanted to do everything right the way she would a normal spirit ceremony.  I smiled, knowing that God knew the intentions of her heart.  Soon I was talking with the God of the universe again.  I don’t think I’ve ever talked with chief God that many times in Boan village in one day before.  I certainly didn’t mind.  But there was more to come.

I stopped by to see Pri and she said she could call her daughter back from the field.  Shortly after, I saw a young man get on the moto and head out to the field to call his sister in.  By the time Pri’s daughter returned, she had everything set up for the ceremony.  She placed a mat out.  She placed a bowl of Rambaton in the middle of the mat.  She had opened a bottle of pop and placed out several cups.  She invited me to sit down as her daughter walked in the door.  Her daughter was obviously eager to get back on the moto, so she hurriedly told me the story.  Once again she explained that a young man had wanted to marry her many years before.  She was sure he was a jyak.  She was sure he was now trying to eat her in revenge for marrying another man.  She asked if God could protect her from a jyak.  I assured her that chief God could protect her from any evil spirit, which, sorcerer, or demon.  Then I prayed again.  After the girl left, we sat and drank our pop, ate our fruit, and visited together.

My Pnong friends in Boan village are asking the right questions.  They’re making an effort to communicate with chief God.  They have never watched anyone else worship this God before except for few foreigners.  Thus they are turning to him in the only way they know how.  And my heart skips a beat too.  For I know God is just as excited to watch them take their first steps to him as I was watching my babies take their first steps to me.

Future plans

Please continue praying for the people of Boan village.  This is an exciting time.  Johanna and I also ask you to pray for us during this time.  We plan to leave the country permanently on October 22.  That means we’ll have to leave here several days before.  The Bible story books are now fully edited.  But before we can print them Johanna still has to put in the pictures.  We also have to pack.  After 10 years, we have a lot of things to go through.  We are handing things out, selling things, debating whether or not to take them, and throwing things away.  But if that’s all we were doing, we’d be busy.  Unfortunately, we also have to decide what we’re going to do when we get home.  Since we’ll soon have a baby join us, were still trying to find the right place to live.  And we are trying to put a plan in place of what our lives will look like when we get home.

I know many of you are praying for us.  Thank you so very much.  We crave your prayers.  Though our life right now is filled with extra stress, we are also very excited about the future.  For God is leading us across the ocean once again.  This time he’s leading us home.  During our first month in the states, we will travel to AFM in Michigan.  We will also travel down to Tennessee to see our friends in Collegedale.  We want to thank our adopted family for a decade of prayers and support.  We will spend Thanksgiving with my parents in Washington State, and then will travel down to New Mexico to be with Johanna’s parents.  That’s where our precious midwife lives who will be with us when our third child enters the world.  In January, I will start a seven month course of massage therapy.  After much prayer, I’ve decided to become a massage therapist.  I’m really excited.  I feel that this job will allow me to connect with people deeply.  There are people in America searching for chief God also.  I want to find them and bless them.

But I still have a month and a half to work here.  This is an exciting time.  Please pray.

The Stories of Salvation

“We don’t have anything to read,” villagers cried out to my friends, the Bible Translators, last week.   Since there are hundreds of books for the Pnong to read in their own language now, my friends were puzzled.  They even have several books of the Bible in print now.  But the villagers said, “No, we’re talking about the big Bible Story Books.  That’s all we want to read and we’re all out.  Can you get us some more?”  Children are buying the Bible story books with their own money.   And the adults too are eagerly buying the Bible Story Books we’ve worked so hard on, excited to read the Bible stories in their own language.  Last week I sent out several hundred more books.  But the villagers are already asking for more.  Johanna and I leave this week for Phnom Penh to again print the Bible Story Books in the Pnong language.

Last week I met with the Bible translators again and they are thrilled to see so many Pnong people reading our Bible Story Books.  They have a dream to see hundreds more printed and distributed.  They say that so far the Pnong aren’t as eager to read the translated books of the Bible in the Pnong language.  It’s too difficult and the words are too small.  Most of them are just learning to read.  They get very little out of the actual Bible.  But they are eager to get their hands on “Those big books from the Bible”.  The Pnong churches are ordering at least one set of books, some two, for their libraries so their members can read the Bible stories in their own language.

Johanna and I are truly touched to see how God is using our work and time among the Pnong.  According to the Bible translators, the Pnong people will use our books for their Bible for many, many years to come.  We have created a foundation for others to build on.  And thanks to a single Sabbath School group in Collegedale, we have money to print these books as fast as villagers want them.  Please pray for the Pnong People as they read the story of salvation.

Passing on the Baton

Alone.  For over a decade Johanna and I worked alone.  There were people all around us, but not from our own culture or language.  And if you’ve ever been to another country where people think, act, speak, and behave differently than you’re used to, you may understand why I say we were alone.

What is it like to be alone?  In every social gathering you attend, you’re the only one different and strange.  People often laugh at the funny way you say things.  They enjoy telling stories to each other about silly things you’ve done and your numerous faux pas.  And they always end in hysterics adding, “Please don’t be upset.  You just always make us laugh.”  You laugh too, knowing they love you, but sometimes you long to be normal.

Not one of your acquaintances or friends has ever used a computer or sent a message through a cell phone.  For them graduating from high school is only for scholars.  None of them can read a book for enjoyment or personal edification.  “Doing a search” means looking for something in the jungle.  “Twitter” is the sound a bird makes.  Being friends or “liking me” means you have to know the person first and has nothing to do with the internet.  Words like Skype, Ebay, Google, Megabyte, highway, elevator, mall, McDonalds, school bus, semi truck, train, or even Saturday night games mean nothing even if you could translate the words somehow.  Why?  Because you are living in another world and by living in someone else’s world you are alone.

Over the past few years we’ve been making plans to finish our projects here and return permanently to the United States.  In the process we also prayed for teammates to join us.  We dreamed of having a young couple from Adventist Frontier Missions start their work here, among the Pnong people.  We knew that if they arrived a year or so before we left, we could guide them through the language learning process and help them avoid some of the mistakes we made along the way.  We could introduce them to our Pnong friends.  In this way, we could escort them straight into the unique world of the Pnong right from the start.

God answered our prayers by bringing Daniel and Cara Greenfield here at the beginning of this year.  They are full of energy and come with fresh ideas and goals.  They have eagerly charged into the difficult task of learning a remote hilltribe language.  And each day they seek to understand more of the Pnong world around them that is so foreign to all who come from a land across the sea.

Our family has enjoyed breakfasts with their family every morning since they came.  We take turns and make a meal for each other every other day.  Their son Andrew is a few months younger than Keenan and their daughter Autumn is only a few months older than Jaden.  So our kids play together with excited squeals and shrieks while we’re trying to eat and as long as they can after breakfast before we split up to start the work day.  We enjoy American food – cornbread and beans, biscuits and gravy, burritos, lentil loaf, and even sandwiches with veggie meat.  Our Sabbaths are fun because after church we make a real Sabbath feast.  Sometimes we take a Sabbath walk together or just talk as the kids play.  Cara is greatly gifted in the area of children’s ministry and plans a fabulous English Sabbath School for our four kids in the afternoon, complete with felts, crafts, stuffed animals, and stickers.  Our kids talk about it all week always asking, “When will it be Sabbath again?”

And Saturday night includes popcorn and games, laughter and fun.  Sometimes we even throw in an Asian twist with mango banana smoothies.  The Greenfields catch our jokes.  They understand our stories.  They empathize with our challenges and rejoice in our victories.  No longer are we alone!  God has blessed us with friends who understand us during our last year in the field, and that is truly a gift!

But the heart is a strange thing; a mystery beyond understanding.  Why do I feel like crying as I see Daniel sitting with Yoh making a basket?  Why do I feel a jealous twinge to see Cara eagerly taking notes as Grandfather Maat mumbles the words “chicken”, “duck”, and “pig”?  I know these are not my people.  I have no ownership over them.  Yet the experience I’ve lived with them alone over the past decade is precious to me and one that’s strange (maybe painful) to share.

As Daniel and I stood in Chay’s field earlier this year, my heart began to ache as I pointed to each plant and said the word in Pnong.  As he wrote in his notebook, the early morning sun seemed to set the red earth ablaze around us, setting off the tiny green shoots of corn and pumpkin like flames of green.  Both Chay and Yoh came over with smiles to watch their strange white friend teach a newcomer the words of their language.  And I said to Daniel in that moment, as my hand swept across the scene around us, “This, my friend, is your new job.  I’ve never shared it with anyone before.  And now it’s my honor to invite you to be part of it too.”

I don’t know if he understood what I was saying.  I’m not sure if he could sense the preciousness of the gift I offered him or the tears that welled up somewhere deep inside my heart.  Why is it hard to let someone else walk this trail with me?  Why is it difficult to let someone else continue down the trail when I turn back?  Perhaps it’s the thought of what I’ll miss around the next corner.  Or maybe it’s the fear that I’m letting my Pnong friends down by leaving.  Maybe I’m scared that I’m leaving them with someone who won’t go where I would go.

I long for Daniel and Cara to love these people as much as I do.  I long for them to honor the Pnong and cherish them as much as I do.  I long for them to respect the Pnong and learn to appreciate their ways as much as I do.  But in the same way, I want the Greenfields to be themselves and follow the path God has given them to follow.  I know they are different from me – with unique personalities and gifts.  Thus, in time, they will create a project different from ours – one that neither Johanna or I could have ever made.  They will touch other people that we may never have seen.  They will go to other places we may never have gone.  And they will bless the Pnong people in ways we never could have blessed.

But there is something painful about passing on the baton.  I’ve done my part, but why can’t I go on?  I’ve seen this part of the race, but why can’t I see the finish line as well?  I’ve been a team player and set a good pace for others to build on, but why stop now?

The reason, I tell myself logically, is because this never was my race – this never was my project.  In fact, Chief God chose me to play a small part in His project, in His race.  He has been here all along, before I was born, before the Pnong people even existed.  And He has walked with them from the beginning.  He has loved them, held them, nurtured them, guided them, and sheltered them.  And He has constantly been at work to show them His love.  When I reached the right maturity, He asked me to come and love them too – but only for a time.  He has others He wants them to meet.  He has more He wants them to see, more He wants them to understand, and more He wants them to know.  And my time with them is nearing an end.  But the race has only begun, the project is far from complete, and the trail the Pnong walk along stretches on into eternity – with Him by their side.

Daniel Visits Boan Village

Thus this week I once again invited Daniel to accompany me to the village.  I’m determined to share.  I’m determined to pass the baton on.  I’m determined to encourage Daniel and Cara in every way I can, for the trail before them is steep and difficult.  Daniel was thrilled to ride his newer Honda SL 230cc motorcycle behind me as we made our way to the cutoff to the village.  He knew before us lay great adventure for the rainy season had begun and this would be our first trip to the village on the treacherous hard-packed roads of clay.  A light rain glistened off the trail before us.  I whispered a prayer into my helmet as we turned off the pavement.  “Lord, please be with him.  The exhaust is so hot on these bikes.  Help him to keep his bike up.  Show him how to drive on these roads in these conditions.  Just as you have been with me so many times in the past, please now ride with him.”

My back tire lost traction and I placed a foot down to steady the bike as I veered to the right.  Then, before I could even regain full control, the bike slipped to the left, this time the front tire loosing traction as well.  I let off the gas and let the bike coast, then touched the throttle with the slightest punch.  Instantly I was back in control and smiled, feeling the excitement of rainy season again.  I glanced in my rearview mirror in time to see Daniel sliding across the same patch of road.  I understood his tension.  I remembered his fears.  Wasn’t it only yesterday I was trying to get a feel for the SL on the road to Boan Village?  “Please assist him now,” I prayed.

After 40 more minutes of intense driving, at a snail’s pace, Daniel and I were at the top of the hill above the village.  “Should we leave the bikes up here and walk down?” Daniel asked with intension.  I could tell he was worried about the last steep hill.

“Nah,” I replied with a bit of overconfidence.  “This is the first big rain.  There isn’t even any green moss yet.  The roads can’t be that bad.  I’m going all the way down.”  And with that I started the steep descent.

Moments later though both tires had broken free and I was in a freefall, sliding down the rutted-out trail completely out of control.  I pumped the brakes to no avail.  I popped it into second gear and let out the clutch.  Nothing. I was still picking up speed.  I finally squeezed the clutch handle taking the bike completely out of gear to let the tires catch up.  Then easing it back into gear I tried stopping again.  This time the knobby tires caught on something and I came spinning to a quick stop sideways in the road.  But the top-heavy bike continued on down and I struggled with all my might to keep it from going over.  My foot held though and with a final heave I was able to get the bike back up.  With my heart pounding, I turned the bike back up the trail to warn Daniel not to try it.  He’d been right.

We then walked down into the village barefoot, holding our useless flip-flops in our hands.  The trail was just too steep and slippery for anything but bare feet.  “Rainy season is here,” I smiled at Daniel.  He’d done such a great job of handling his yet unfamiliar motorcycle and hadn’t laid it over once.  He now smiled back and said, “I’m just glad I can be here with you.  The Lord sure was with us on the roads.”

Our first stop was Jyang’s hut.  I wondered if her feet were better.  The large rice wine jar in the center of the room though told me she was not .  They were still obviously doing their ceremonies.  My heart ached.  But remembering my visit with God on the hilltop I knew my message was more than a message of health.  My message was that Chief God will always hold us close until he makes everything new.  And I knew that message was needed here in Jyang’s hut.

I sat next to her on the wooden bed frame she’d placed her sleeping mat on.  She was sitting there with her tiny infant daughter swinging in the hammock over the bed just behind her.  Jyang smiled up at me as I sat down.  “How are you?” I asked in a concerned voice.

Kutsak heard me from the other room where he was eating large spoonfuls of rice, “Oh Mbut Keenan, so good to see you.  Who is with you?”

“This is Mbut Andrew,” I said.  “He wants to learn to speak Pnong as well.”

“Is he the husband of the girl who came last week with Met Keenan?” Jyang wanted to know.

“Yeah, he’s her husband.  They have come to work with my organization as well.  They’ll continue on when we leave.”

Daniel then greeted both of them with the Pnong greeting of, “Weh Lang?”

“Well that will be nice,” Jyang said with a smile, glancing back at Daniel.  “At least we’ll be able to call someone to help if we get really sick and need to get to the hospital.  But we don’t know them very well.  They don’t come out here as often as you do.  Tell them to come visit us more.  Tell them to spend more time with us like you and Met Keenan did when you first came.”

“Well, they’re learning to speak Pnong in the provincial center.  They’re working really hard at it.  But I will tell them that you want them to come here more often.”

I then translated her words to Daniel, who then smiled and nodded his head with assurance that he would try to come see her more.

Just then Jyang’s father, Jyaar, came into the room, who is Koin’s younger brother.  He came over and shook both my hand and Daniel’s, in the traditional Pnong way.  He was smiling and was obviously interested in my guest.  Then Kutsak, with a mouthful of rice, came in from the other room smiling a warm greeting.  “Have you eaten yet?  Please have some rice.”  I assured him that we had both eaten.

“What did you eat?” Jyaar suddenly demanded of Daniel, looking Daniel straight in the face.  The room got quiet and Jyaar’s smile grew.  He was obviously enjoying watching Daniel squirm.  I knew his question was also a test.  Did Daniel speak his language?  “What did you eat?” he repeated in exactly the same tone and speed without a hint of helpfulness.

“Uh, well… Uh” Daniel glanced up at me awkwardly begging for help with his eyes.

I smiled too realizing the humor in watching a newcomer squirm.  Yet I also felt Daniel’s awkwardness and understood his discomfort in being placed in the spot light.  I quickly came to his rescue by translating the words one by one.  “He’s asking you what you ate,” I explained.

Daniel then turned to the old man and said in the Pnong language, “Uh, well, I ate bread.”  The whole room erupted with joy.  “He does speak Pnong!  He does.  He does.”

Even Jyaar was laughing.  Daniel had passed the test.  A few words of Pnong meant he was willing to learn, he was willing to place himself in their world and not ask them to come to his.  Now beaming with joy Jyaar said in his best English, “I smoke si-ga-ret.”  Everyone burst into laughter again.  A new connection had been made – a new friendship begun.

In the spirit of the moment Kutsak said, “Mbut Ndrew, huh?  That sounds like our word for cow.  We’ll call you Father Cow.”  Everyone laughed again until their sides hurt.

Still laughing I turned to see how Daniel was doing.  He was trying to laugh along too but whispered to me, “I hope that one doesn’t stick.”

“Oh I think it’s a good name,” I joked with him.  “I’ll encourage it.”

But Kutsak wasn’t finished.  When he recovered from the latest outburst of laughter he said, “And if he’s Father Cow than you must be Father Water Buffalo.”  At this the room went into hysterics.  “Ha, ha, ha,” they laughed.  “Father Cow and Father Water Buffalo.  Ha, ha, ha.”

We talked for over an hour, often laughing when someone would remind us of our nicknames.  Jyaar eventually left and Kutsak’s father arrived with the chief.  They joined in the laughter and joking.  I hoped Daniel could see the beauty of the moment even though the old men were blowing smoke in our faces, the pigs were squealing outside, and the banana’s Jyang had given us to eat were dirty.  I hoped he could see their hearts, and their willingness to have us in their world.

At one point the chief came over grabbed Daniels hands in his with a huge smile.  “I want you to come to my home often and visit me a lot.  We can be friends you and I.  We can be friends.”  I quickly translated the words so Daniel could respond properly.  He smiled and nodded his head towards the chief.  The chief continued, “You can learn our language like Mbut Keenan and come to visit us often.”  Then he turned to me and said, “And you need to buy more knives from me.  I’ll make you ten new ones to take back with you to America.  You’ll need them when you get back to America. You can sell them and make lots of money.”  Everyone laughed.  “So how about it?  Will you buy the knives if I make you ten more?”

I laughed and said, “Well you do make wonderful knives.  If you make them as good as the last ones with hard black handles and brass bands with bullet shells on the end of the handles, I’ll take ‘em.  You’re right, people in America like your knives.  The Pnong are such good knife makers.”

The chief beamed with pride and said, “Then I’ll make them for you.  I’ll get started right away.  I don’t want you to forget us.  And you only have a few more months with us.”

When the house cleared out a bit, I once again held Jyang’s feet and prayed with her.  She was so thankful.  Just after my prayer Kutsak said, “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the different religions.  Some are Muslim, some are Buddhist, some are Christian, some are Pnong.  The Muslim’s aren’t so good.  They also have to give their spirits sacrifices and do ceremonies.  The Buddhists aren’t so good.  They too have to do certain rituals and offer certain sacrifices.  And ours is really difficult.  We have to give all our chickens and pigs and ducks and cows.  But yours is different.  You just talk with God.  You don’t have to give him anything to make him do what you want.  You don’t have to give up all that you have.  You just stop and talk with him.  Wow, yours is certainly better than anything I’ve ever seen before.”

I smiled and answered, “Well you just have to remember that Chief God is the one who created the world and created all the people of the world.  Of course he loves us.  Of course he feels sorry for us.  And of course he wants to help when we ask him too.  He doesn’t want us to be poor by taking all of our animals away.  He loves us even when we are wrong.  He loves us even when we don’t love him.”

The room was quiet as Jyang and Kutsak thought about my words.  “Thank you so much,” Jyang beamed at me.  Thank you so much!”

Face-to-face with a Shaman

That’s when we said good-bye and made our way to other huts in the village.  The mud was terrible and our flip-flops made it worse.  After finding most people gone to the fields, we turned back to Jyang and Kutsak’s home.  We passed Yau and her sister Rote heading to the fields with their back pack baskets.  They immediately came over and greeted us warmly before continuing on.  I wondered if it was the right time to leave the village and prayed silently for direction.  I sensed His presence.  Then just in front of us, about to enter Jyang’s hut, we met an older man.  He smiled and greeted us warmly saying, “I’m just going in here to check on this young lady who’s been sick.  I feel so bad for her.  She’s been sick for so long.”

I didn’t recognize him.  I wondered if he were a family member.  I followed him into the hut and sat down.  There were several others there this time.  Kutsak’s father was there again.  He smiled at seeing us again and then continued visiting with the newcomer.  I glanced at Jyang across the room on the bed and she called out with a smile, “He’s the shaman who came to heal me yesterday.  He’s had trouble getting back home today because of the roads so he came to check on me again.”

I was amazed.  Before me sat a Pnong traditional healer.  I’ve always wanted to talk with one.  When Koin was sick, I stopped in to visit him once when the shaman was still there, but Yau seemed hesitant to have me in the room.  I had followed her out and missed the chance to speak with the healer.  I know in some countries they call these shamans Witch Doctors and some of them probably are.  I’ve heard of some Pnong healers that use charms and fetishes to kill and destroy people.  I know there are sorcerers among the Pnong who plot and scheme of ways to eat the souls of human beings.  But I’ve always wondered, “Might there also be traditional healers who use herbs and simple love to heal?”

As I sat down the healer looked my way and smiled.  I greeted him warmly and then added, “So you are a healer, huh?  Where do you come from?”

“Oh, my village is on the road to the big waterfalls.  It’s called the Village of Trong Weh.”

“Oh yes, I’ve there,” I said.  “It’s a nice place.”

We visited for several minutes before I had a chance to direct the conversation back to the topic of healing.  “So how long have you been a healer?” I began.

“Oh I’ve been a healer for over 20 years now.”

“Really.  Wow, that’s a long time.  How did you learn to be a healer?  Who taught you?”

“Oh I just learned by watching the healers.  When someone had a fever, I watched carefully when they went into the jungles and memorized which trees they took the leaves from and which trees they took the bark from and which trees they took wood chips from.  When someone had a stomach ache or when a woman had just had a baby, I again watched to see which plants and leaves the healers used.  I wanted to know how to help people who are sick.  And since that time I’ve been helping sick people as often as I can.  You know, when people go to the hospital, the doctors don’t always heal them.  Sometimes the doctors won’t even look at them.  They say, ‘Ah, you’re not sick.’  But I ask, ‘Won’t the sick person know if they are sick or not?  Shouldn’t the sick person be the one to say if they are sick?’  So when I see people come home from the hospital with a few pills and I know the doctors have done little to help them, I feel so sorry and want to do something to help.  I try to remember which plants are good for healing and which ones might help the person.  Then I go into the forest and collect the right ones and come back and treat them so that they will get better again.  I use dried wood chips from a variety of trees to makes different types of tea.  My teas can help people with a stomach ache to feel better and also people with a headache, people with a fever, and people who have just had a baby.  I help the women know what foods they should avoid right after having a baby.  I make all sorts of medicines from the different plants.  I do all I can to help people.”

I listened with eagerness, trying to understand this man.  At the same time I prayed, asking my God to be near.  Everything the healer said made me feel that his heart was right and he helped people out of love.  But I knew everything he did would make me uncomfortable and I knew that of myself I could never know which powers he used.  Since I was confused I simply gave it to my God and asked Him to be near.

After our conversation, the healer stood up and made his way over to Jyang, who was still sitting on the wooden bed-frame.  He took off his shoes and then stepped up onto the bed frame next to Jyang.  Kutsak then brought him a metal bowl of water and some incense.  The healer turned to me and said, “I’m now going to work on this young woman and try to help her to feel better.”

I watched his every move.  First he opened the package of incense and drew out four sticks.  Then he took the long beeswax candle that Kutsak handed him and cut it into sections.  The top section was about a foot long.  He took that section and held it in his hand with the incense.  Then he took a lighter and lit both the candle and incense with fire.

He carefully used the incense and candle to stir the water in a bowl around and around while he chanted something too softly for me to hear.  Then he stood up on the bed frame and stepped over to Jyang who had taken off her shirt and pulled her sarong up to cover herself.  He shoulders were bare.  Standing behind her, he then used the non-smoking side of the incense and candle to write something on Jyang’s back.  I couldn’t tell if he just made patterns or if he was spelling something.  He also began to chant.

While holding the bowl of water in one hand and the incense and candle in the other, he took a sip of the water.  I thought he’d swallowed it until he suddenly spat it out in a fine mist all over her.  In the same instant he used his foot to powerfully shove her forward with a swift kick.  I couldn’t tell if it hurt her or not.  He did the same on her right side and then her left.  Then to my surprise, in one swift movement, he placed the candle all the way in his mouth and closed his lips over it and then took it out and blew over it onto Jyang.  He did this several times without the flame ever going out.  Then still holding the incense and candle, he used his fingers to spread an herbal solution of ground up plants over Jyang’s legs.  He especially focused on the soles of her feet.  He did this to both legs.

He then did the writing motion with the end of the incense and candle on both feet.  Then he blew on her legs over the incense and repeated it again over her head and on the sides of her head.  Standing up he again wrote on her back with the incense before placing the incense high up on the wall in a small container hanging there.  While he did this he began chanting other phrases too quietly for me to hear.

I wished I could be closer and was thrilled when the healer looked my way and motioned for me to come and sit next to Jyang on the bed frame.  I quickly moved and continued watching.  The healer then washed his hands using the water from the bowl.  He offered some wine to Met Liap with both hands while chanting a blessing.  Then he took the candle off the wall and placed it in a bowl of rice.  He had extinguished the flame.  I then noticed that beside the bowl of uncooked rice he had also placed a bowl full of what appeared to be gifts.  I figured the couple must have given the gifts, but who were they too?  The healer?  The spirits?  Or were they from the healer to Jyang and Kutsak?  There was a brand new sarong there, still in its package.  I saw a package of unopened cigarettes, a new package of incense, the lengths of beeswax candles he had cut off, and two 20,000 riel notes.  I also saw what appeared to be 4 or 5 handmade leaf cigarettes wrapped around paper.  But they were empty with no tobacco.  I didn’t know what they were for sure.

The healer sat and talked with the couple very seriously about going up on the hill above the village in the future.  I couldn’t quite tell what he was telling them, but it sounded like he was explaining what type of ceremony to have there.  He then lit the candle that he had placed in the bowl of rice.  He offered a cup of wine to Kutsak and the two of them chanted something together. I couldn’t make out the words.  The healer then placed his finger in the wine and wiped it on the rice and the gifts while again chanting something.  He then picked up some of the rice in the bowl and threw it at the flame of the candle chanting something about making everything well and happy again.  I made out the words soksabay in Khmer and the words weh lang in Pnong which both mean to be happy and healthy.

He then rearranged the gifts and wrapped them up in the unopened sarong, still in its package.  He then tied the sarong around them with a string.  He then placed the tied up gifts in a plastic bag and hung them up on the wall above the bed where Jyang was sleeping.  He said, “Place this on the wall wherever you sleep.  If you sleep upstairs, then place this with you on the wall upstairs.”

Following this he told the couple about future ceremonies they should do with chicken sacrifices.  Kutsak then offered him a cup of the wine and a cigarette.  The healer then held them up above his head and chanted another blessing.  Then he handed them to Kutsak to take while still chanting a blessing.  Kutsak tasted some of the wine and then tossed the rest on the ground.  The healer then did the same to Jyang who also tasted the wine.

After visiting with the couple the healer then reached out and extinguished the flame of the candle with his finger.  Then he said to Kutsak, “Give some wine to Mbut Keenan.”

Both Jyang and Kutsak explained, “Oh he doesn’t know how to drink the wine with us.  He never does no matter how often we offer it to him.”

“Well, offer it to him again now,” the healer said with authority.

Kutsak then turned to me awkwardly with a cup of wine and said, “Here Mbut Keenan, some wine for you.”

“Oh I don’t know how to drink wine,” I explained.

“Take just a sip,” the healer encouraged.

“No, I don’t know how to drink the wine,” I insisted.

“Take just a sip and spit it out on the ground then,” the little man told me.

“No, I’ve never tried the wine.  I don’t know how to drink it.  I just drink water.”

The little man seemed puzzled and a bit perturbed.  He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t even put it in my mouth.  In the Pnong culture, offering someone wine and a cigarette is the greatest form of hospitality.  You always offer your guests these to honor them.  But I felt the principle went beyond just the health issue or hospitality.  I didn’t understand all that he had done in the healing ceremony and I didn’t feel comfortable participating in a spirit ceremony that I didn’t understand.  I prayed silently, asking God to guide me and hoping that I had done the right thing.

Then the healer encouraged Kutsak to offer me a cigarette.  “No, I don’t know how to smoke either,” I said.

To my joy Kutsak let me off the hook this time by saying, “Well, I don’t smoke either.  It makes my lungs hurt and I cough.  Don’t worry.  I don’t smoke either.”

The little healer smiled at me and I smiled back.  There was so much happening that I didn’t understand.  But I hoped he felt my sincere love.  I could sense his.  As I stood to leave he said, “Let’s meet again together sometime.  You can give me a shoe.”  I glanced at Jyang for help since I had no idea what the healer’s words meant.

“He just means maybe you can buy him some shoes next time you see him,” Jyange explained.  But I knew there was more to the meaning and I didn’t know what.

“Let’s definitely meet again,” I told him shaking his hands.  “It’s been so nice meeting you.”

And then Daniel and I were walking back up the slippery roadway out of the village.  I was in deep thought.  I shared some of my thoughts with Daniel as we walked.  For to me the healer’s ceremony had been scary and witchlike.  But isn’t everything we don’t understand scary?  I don’t know the man’s heart.  Only God does.  He may be doing everything he knows to be right.

I thought of our own culture and our own religion.  We often say divorce is ok while Jesus says it’s not (Matt 5:31-32).  We ignore Jesus’ warnings to the rich, though we in America are the richest people on the planet (Matt.19:23-24).  We scoff at atheists who scream “Save Planet Earth” often forgetting our God-given commission to care for His creation (Gen. 1:28).  We travel the earth preaching the soon coming of Christ but often forget the message Jesus also preached that the Kingdom of God has already come (Luke 17:20-21).  We often give our pastors and leaders positions of authority and power over us, forgetting that Jesus said, “You are not to be like that” (Luke 22:25-26).  If we are so confused and yet find Him near, blessing us and blessing others through us, couldn’t he also be near that little, confused, Pnong healer?

Tash vs. Aslan

I leave you with this story that has touched me deeply by C.S. Lewis.  In the land of Narnia, Lewis tells the story of the end of the age.  Time in Narnia has come to an end.  The last king is surrounded by the invading Calormene soldiers.  The last battle is fought in front of a thatched stable where the evil god Tash is said to be lurking.  Tash is a fearful monster – the God of the Calormene.  The Calormene captain doesn’t believe in any god.  Yet he claims, to the Narnian captives, that Tash is one and the same as Aslan the lion, the Great God of Narnia.  He invites them to step into the stable and meet their God face to face.  It’s all a hoax to scare the conquered into submission.  Thus the captain is shocked when one of his own Calormene soldiers steps forward.  The story continues:

He was young and tall and slender, and even rather beautiful in the dark, haughty, Calormene way.

“My father,” he said to the Captain, “I also desire to go in.”

“Peace, Emeth,” said the Captain.  “Who called thee to counsel?  Does it become a boy to speak?”

“My father,” said Emeth.  “Truly I am younger than thou, yet I also am of the blood of the Tarkaans even as thou art, and I also am the servant of Tash.  Therefore…”

“Silence,” said Rishda Tarkaan.  “Am not I thy Captain?  Thou hast nothing to do with this Stable.  It is for the Narnians.”

“Nay, my Father,” answered Emeth.  “Thou hast said that their Aslan and our Tash are all one.  And if that is the truth, than Tash himself is in yonder.  And how than sayest thou that I have nothing to do with Him?  For gladly would I die a thousand deaths if I might look once on the face of Tash…”

Then… Emeth came walking forward into the open strip of grass between the bonfire and the Stable.   His eyes were shining, his face very solemn, his hand was on his sword-hilt, and he carried his head high.  Jill felt like crying when she looked at his face.  And Jewel [the unicorn] whispered into the King’s ear, “By the Lion’s Mane, I almost love this young warrior, Calormene though he be.  He is worthy of a better god than Tash.”

Later, Emeth tells what happened in his own words:

“For always since I was a boy I have served Tash and my great desire was to know more of him and, if it might be, to look upon his face.  But the name of Aslan was hateful to me…”

“I said to myself, Surely the true Tash, whom they called on without knowledge or belief, has now come among us, and will avenge himself.  And though my heart was turned into water inside me because of the greatness and the terror of Tash, yet my desire was stronger than my fear, and I put force upon my knees to stay them from trembling, and on my teeth that they should not chatter, and resolved to look upon the face of Tash though he should slay me.  So I offered myself to go into the hovel; and the Tarkaan, though unwilling, let me go.

“As soon as I had gone in at the door, the first wonder was that I found myself in this great sunlight (as we all are now) though the inside of the hovel had looked dark from outside….

“Then I looked about me and saw the sky and the wide lands, and smelled the sweetness.  And I said, By the God’s, this is a pleasant place: it may be that I am come into the country of Tash.  And I began to journey into the strange country and to seek him.

“So I went over much grass and many flowers and among all kinds of wholesome and delectable trees till lo! in a narrow place between two rocks there came to meet me a great Lion.  The speed of him was like the ostrich, and his size was an elephant’s; his hair was like pure gold and the brightness of his eyes like gold that is liquid in the furnace.  He was more terrible than the Flaming Mountain of Lagour, and in beauty he surpassed all that is in the world even as the rose in bloom surpasses the dust of the desert.

“Then I fell at his feet and thought, Surely this is the hour of death, for the Lion (who is worthy of all honour) will know that I have served Tash all my days and not him.  Nevertheless, it is better to see the Lion and die than to be Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him.  But the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, ‘Son, though art welcome.’  But I said, ‘Alas, Lord, I am no son of thine but of Tash.’  He answered, ‘Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me.’  Then by reason of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, ‘Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one?’  The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, ‘It is false.  Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites—I take to me the service which thou hast done to him.  For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him.  Therefore, if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath’s sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him.  And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted.  Dost thou understand, Child?’  I said, ‘Lord, thou knowest how much I understand.’  But I said also (for the truth constrained me), ‘Yet I have been seeking Tash all my days.’  ‘Beloved’, said the Glorious One, ‘unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly.  For all find what they truly seek.’

“Then he breathed upon me and took away the trembling from my limbs and caused me to stand upon my feet.  After that, he said not much, but that we should meet again, and I must go further up and further in.  Then he turned him about in a storm and flurry of gold and was gone suddenly…”

(The Chonicles of Narnia “The Last Battle” page 727-728, 755-760)

New Life Threatened

Last month, four babies entered the world in Boan Village.  The two midwives (Yau was one of them) couldn’t keep up.  They had to call a midwife from another village to help.  I love to sit and watch these little ones as they look up into their mommy’s face.  The mystery of life always overwhelms me during those moments in the village, watching new life.  Those tiny ones are so helpless, so dependent on their mommies and daddies.  The earth turned, the sun came up, the wind blew, the birds sang before these little ones entered the world.  But now here they are to change our lives forever and it’s already hard to imagine a time when they weren’t here.  Each of them impact the planet very little now, yet the love that grows in their mothers’ hearts shines brightly and that love lifts the darkness inside the huts.  Already these tiny infants are changing the world.  And as they grow, they will blossom and bloom filling the earth with their own unique fragrance of life.

I guess it’s especially fun to watch these tiny ones thinking of a day, not far away, when I will hold my own tiny newborn.  Yes, that’s right.  Johanna and I are expecting another baby.  But in this case, we’re not sure if our baby will be born this year or the next.  Most are certain of the month their baby will come and many are sure of the day.  But all are sure of the year, right?  No.  Our baby is due to be born on December 28, 2011.  So will he or she enter the world this year or the next – only God knows.  But one thing is for sure, I’ll soon be holding another mysterious creation of my own, in awe of life.

But in Boan Village the new life is threatened by a bondage of evil so dark and so gruesome it’s hard to even imagine.  Over time, the Pnong people have come to believe that new mothers must be very careful what they eat after giving birth to a baby.  They believe that eating the wrong food causes a great sin or fault to cover them.  Because of this great wrong, sickness and death will soon follow.  Some of the elders say certain types of fish will tarnish a new mother with guilt.  Some of the healers teach that most fruits and vegetables cause blame to fall upon new mothers.  Since no one knows for sure what is safe to eat, most new mothers eat only white rice for at least one month after having a baby.  Some continue this practice until the baby is six months old.  Most of these women drink only a small cup or two of water a day.  Thus they become weak, pale, and sick; the babies struggle to thrive.  And the mothers cry out:

“Why do we feel so awful?
Why do we feel so weak?
Why is my baby so small?
Why is he easily sick?
I must have done something wrong.
I must have angered them again.”

Jyang is one of the women with a new baby.  Her feet are now almost completely well.  She told me a few days ago, “Chief God is truly with me.  I feel Him here.  I’m no longer afraid at night.  I’m no longer scared of the spirits.”  With her new awareness of His presence, she tried avocados for the first time.

“None of the elders or healers told me I can’t eat avocados,” she said me with a smile.  “And I know Chief God is here.”  I assured her that Met Keenan had eaten a lot of avocados after the birth of our two sons and Chief God had protected her.  I was thrilled to see Jyang gain strength after that.  Now, every trip to the village I take her another bag of avocados from our tree.  One day she said, “You told me that Met Keenan also ate bananas.  So I’ve been eating them and I feel a lot better.”  By God’s grace she’s slowly gaining her strength back again.

I’ve given all four of the mothers multivitamins, which they are thrilled to take.  I’ve also given all four of them energy drinks, which also contain many vitamins.  I tell them to dilute it well with water, hoping that this will help them to drink more liquids.  It seems to be working.

At first only Jyang would eat the avocados and bananas though.  Then one of the women finally said, “Well, if Jyang can eat them, I might as well try too.”  I prayed with her for the first time and then left her a bag of avocados as well.  I came back to find her much more healthy.  But the other two women refuse to eat anything but rice.  It breaks my heart to see them losing weight and too weak to even leave the house.  But watching the tiny ones suffer is nearly beyond what I can handle.  Kay’s baby has diarrhea and is coughing terribly.  Kay has lost her last two infants and told me with a trembling voice, “They had the same sickness as this baby has.  Why?  What have we done?  Why me?”

I sat with Kay and told her of Chief God.  I told her of his great love.  I told her how much he longs to help us.  I told her that he loves us as much as she loves her little son, who she held close to her breast.  Though I have spent years with this family they always change the subject or even laugh when I mention Chief God.  As I sat there with this terribly weak woman, watching her baby struggling for life, I became angry inside.  Someone, something, was holding her in bondage.  She was killing her own tiny one all the while believing she was protecting him.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to strangle that thing, that unseen demon of darkness deceiving this precious woman.

I asked Kay if I could pray.  All she would say was, “I don’t know.”  She looked around, scared.  I told her of Chief God’s power again and again offered to pray.

“I don’t know.”

I knew I couldn’t force her.  I knew I shouldn’t pressure her.  But I have cried with this family twice already as they buried their babies.  I felt desperate.  I kept praying, “Lord, is there anything I can say or do?  Please break through to her.

Daniel was with me that day and he stepped into the hut in the middle of this powerful struggle.  He didn’t know what was happening and began talking to Kay’s mother at the other end of the hut.  Suddenly, quietly, so soft I didn’t even understand at first, Kay said to me, “Talk.”

She then motioned something with her eyes.  I whispered, “Talk to Chief God?”  She glanced at her mother, still talking with Daniel, and then silently nodded.

And there in that hut I very quietly talked with the Author of all Life, the one who gives each of us breath.  I touched the baby’s head and presented him to his Maker.  Tears threatened to spill out as I prayed for his life.  Though never speaking a word, Kay’s eyes told me she was thankful.  She smiled slightly and squeezed her lips tightly together as if to say, “I feel better.  I feel Him here.”

Two days later Johanna and I had the opportunity to visit again.  It was the first time we’d been to the village together on our motorcycle in over six years.  Our friend Kara, a student missionary in Cambodia this year, offered to watch our boys.  We were able to once again sit with Kay and talk of God.  This time her mother, father, and husband were out of the house.  Only her younger sister was there.  This younger sister began to laugh as we spoke of God, as the family always has.  But this time the laughter faded away as she too listened to the stories of the Creator God.  We freely spoke of Chief God’s love and his power.  Kay listened with great interest.  Then I sat with her once again and offered to speak with Chief God.  This time she hesitated only briefly.  I once again placed my hand on the baby’s head and once again the tears threatened to come as I prayed.  I’m not sure what I said out loud but inside I was screaming, “Lord, please break through to Kay and her family.  Don’t let the forces of evil hold them in this darkness.  Spare this child’s life Lord if at all possible.  I love him though I don’t know him.  Save him Lord.  Save him!”

Please pray for the villagers of Boan Village.  We’ll be traveling to Phnom Penh for the next couple of weeks to print Bible Story Books.  But the unseen struggle will rage on.  Please especially pray for Jyang and Kay.

What’s the Point?

There are times I feel like I’m floating on the clouds.  I feel the Lord near.  I feel only love towards my boys and my wife.  I soar through life on eagle’s wings.  But there are other times I feel like the eagle’s wings got clipped.  I feel grounded.  I hop around complaining and count every irritation and annoyance as yet another misery to endure.

One morning in Boan Village, I was feeling the latter.  I couldn’t see the sunshine or the flowers, for all about me was a fog of discouragement and darkness.  I had left only days before somewhere above the clouds, for hadn’t we had a praise session in Jyang’s hut filled with testimonies from other villagers about the goodness and power of Chief God?  I had come to take Jyang to the hospital since her feet still weren’t better.  But now villagers crowded about me, each one with a sad story of sickness.

“Can you find medicine for my legs?”  Chote wanted to know.  I glanced down at her scabby legs, peeling and flaking.  I didn’t know what to do or say.

“I’m feeling the sickness come again,” Liu added.  “I feel achy all over.  My fingers don’t seem to work right.  My legs are numb.  My chest hurts from the front straight through to the back.

Pumrok found me shortly after and said, “Mbut Keenan, it’s so good to see you.  Do you have any medicine?  I’m not feeling well.”

At the next hut Yoh complained, “I hurt all through my body.  I’ve taken medicines but they don’t help.  I can hardly walk out to the fields each day.”

I finally managed to get into Jyang’s hut to see her still unable to walk.  But while I was waiting for her to get packed up Rote, Yau’s sister stepped into the hut.  “Oh, my face feel’s swollen.  I went to the doctor yesterday and told him I feel awful.  He told me that I’m not eating enough fruits and vegetables and that I’m missing some important vitamins.  But I have no money for better food.  What am I going to do?  I’ll never get better unless I can find a way to eat better.”

Before I could say anything though she asked, “Have you been to see Yau?  She nearly died last night.”  I quickly made my way to Yau’s hut and found her lying on her back moaning with pain.  I have rarely seen her that sick.  She said her abdomen hurt terribly.  I feared appendicitis.  “I have the truck here this morning Yau,” I explained with excitement.  “I can take you to the hospital.”

“No,” she shook her head.  “I won’t go to those doctors.  They’ll see an old woman like me and give me an injection of poison just to get rid of me.  No, I will not go to those doctors.  I don’t trust them at all.”  Nothing I could say after that would convince her.  All she would say is, “I’ll go in a few days if I’m still this sick.”

I asked if I could talk with Chief God for her and she nodded quickly with a slight painful smile.  She squeezed my hand as I began, “Chief God, my Pnong mother is sick.”  Suddenly all the memories of Koin came rushing back again.  He had lain on this exact spot as I prayed over him.  And he had died.  Would this be the last time I held my “mother’s” hand?  I squeezed back tears as I continued.  “She is really sick.  I don’t know how to help her.  But I do know how to talk with you and I do know that you will be here with her right now.  Please bring her healing.  Please.  Keep any evil spirits away that may want to harm her.  Make the sorcerers run away.  Make those with harmful spells flee into the night.  Fill this house with your spirit.  Make her well I ask.”

I squeezed her hand again as I said goodbye and made my way back to Jyang’s house.  I felt so discouraged.  I felt so overwhelmed.  Though I loved these people, I felt like running away and never coming back.  Someone is always sick in the village.  Sometimes everyone seems sick.  And I can’t feed them all better.  I can’t provide all the medications they need.  I can’t do much at all accept to sit with them one by one and listen to their pain, place my hands on them in love, and talk with my Father in Heaven.  And sometimes that doesn’t seem like much.

I carefully drove Jyang into the hospital and helped her check in.  Kutsak, her husband, came as well.  I had been praying with them for many days about Jyang’s feet.  After many spirit ceremonies they were finally willing to try the hospital.  I shook my head in frustration.  I had little hope the doctors would do anything to help her.  They’d probably give her a general antibiotic pill and tell her she had to stay in the hospital for a week.  I helped them carry their cooking pots into the hospital room where the doctors pointed her to.  All I felt like doing was leaving.  But I prayed, “Lord, if you want me to pray with them again or say something, please let me know.”

Shortly after Kutsak asked, “Mbut Keenan, can you talk with Chief God again with us?  I’d like you to ask him to keep the sorcerers and the evil spirits away from us while we’re here in the hospital.  I’m afraid they’ll follow us from the village.”

Though I still felt down I whispered, “Well God, you couldn’t have made that clearer.  Thank you for guiding me.”  I then sat down beside Jyang on the hospital bed and said, “Yes, I’d like to talk with Chief God again.

But just as I was about to begin Kutsak said, “Oh wait.  Let me hold the baby here with us on the bed so that she’s protected to.  We want Chief God to surround us and I want her here in the middle with us.”  I smiled and sensed God’s presence as this man eagerly sought Chief God’s protection.  And there with that little family I prayed, “Oh Chief God, please be here with Jyang and her family now.  Please help the sorcerers to see you here with them if they try to sneak up on them.  Make them run away quickly.  And if the evil spirits try to creep up, chase them away too.  And if the witch doctors try to cast a spell on them, block it and make that witch doctor run away when he sees you here.  Please help Jyang to be able to walk again soon.”  I left feeling better.  I always do after talking with the God of Life.

The next day I brought avocadoes from our tree for Jyang to eat and some purified water in bottles.  But before I even sat down Jyang told me, “I slept wonderfully last night.  Chief God was here protecting me.  I wasn’t scared at all.”

“Me either,” Kutsak added with a beaming smile.  “This is a scary place.  People from all over the province come here with sicknesses.  Many people die here.  I know there are many evil ones here.  I know there are many sorcerers here who love to eat the souls of our people.  I’m always very afraid in the hospital – especially at night.  But last night, I wasn’t scared at all.  It’s the first time!  Chief God was certainly here with us.”

Chills crawled down my spine.  I glanced around the room realizing He was here.  I had asked him to, right?  But the testimony of this couple was so real and powerful.  They knew he was there.

The next day they both greeted me with the same story.  “He was here again with us.  We were scared of sleeping alone in this room.  Then another patient moved in and we knew Chief God had brought that patient.  But the next morning he moved out and we were worried again about being alone in the room at night.  But Chief God brought another patient to stay our room.  We were so glad.  And both nights we have slept perfectly well.  We’re not scared at all of the sorcerers and the evil spirits.  Chief God is here for sure!”

As predicted, the doctors only gave Jyang a vitamin pill and a general antibiotic.  By the third day Kutsak begged the doctors to let them return home. “We don’t need to be here for her to swallow these pills,” he explained.  “Can we take them back to the village with us and take them there?”  The doctors finally agreed to let the family leave, but they refused to send the medicine with them.  Even so, Jyang and Kutsak were ready to leave.  They could see the hospital was not going to help.

I again drove them back in the truck.  They were so thankful for all I’d done that they opened a bottle of soda pop in my honor.  “You don’t drink wine or beer or smoke, so we hope you’ll like this instead, “Kutsak explained.  I laughed and assured them that I was truly grateful for their hospitality and gifts of gratitude.  But before I left they wanted me to talk with Chief God again.  “But the baby is sleeping upstairs.  Do we need to go get her or can we just ask God to be with her there too?” Kutsak wanted to know.

“No problem,” I said with a smile.  “Chief God is very powerful.  We can just ask him to fill up this entire house and take care of the baby upstairs too.”

Kutsak smiled and added, “Then please also ask God to be with my girls who are walking back from school right now.”

“And ask Chief God to protect our fields too,” Jyang threw in “Since we haven’t been able to attend them much with my sickness.”

And thus I began another conversation with Chief God.  I was surprised this time though because when I finished Kutsak began talking.  At first I thought he was talking to me.  But his eyes didn’t focus on me.  I realized that he was talking to One much greater.  “We want to ask Chief God to protect our home,” Kutsak was saying.  “We want Chief God to be here with us and fill this house with his spirit.  We want him to protect our girls as they are walking back from school.  We want him to be with our baby upstairs.  We want him to watch over our fields and help the rice and vegetables to grow well there.  We want to tell him that we are happy he is here.”

Then he glanced at me with a big smile.  I nodded and said, “See?  You can talk with him anytime and he hears you.”

“Does he ever talk back to you,” Kutsak wanted to know.

“Yes, there are times I hear his voice,” I replied.  “But usually he doesn’t speak in words like we use.  He usually speaks in my head.  But the more I listen, the more I understand Him.”

Both Jyang and Kutsak nodded their heads as if they understood.  “Thank you,” they both shook my hands warmly before I left.

God vs. Shamans, Healers, and Sorcerers

It was clearly a spirit pole.  I could tell by the little bamboo platform in Kutsak’s hands.  I knew instantly that Jyang was still sick.  Kutsak was trying yet another spirit ceremony.  “Oh my Father,” I prayed.  “Why haven’t you healed her?  What is my purpose here today?”

Kutsak glanced up from his work and greeted me warmly with a huge smile.  “Jyang still can’t walk,” he stated the obvious.  It had been several days since my last visit.  “I’ve tried everything I know,” he continued.  “We took her to the hospital where they took money.  I sacrificed my largest pig.  I called the shaman to suck out the evil ones.  I’ve given rice wine, chickens, pigs, and still he seeks to destroy her.  I’m certain that some sorcerer is angry with us for doing so well in our village store.”  Kutsak pointed to the soap, sugar, salt, crackers, and snacks hanging from the walls he and his wife sold to the other villagers.  “Oh he’s jealous.  That must be why he’s determined to eat my wife’s buffalo soul.”

After a moments silence he continued.  “Mbut Keenan, I’m nearly out of money.  And it’s planting season and I can’t even get to my fields to get the rice in.  I’ve still got weeding to do before planting and I can’t wait much longer.  Yet I have no way of paying for help.  We’re almost down to nothing.  I’m having trouble sleeping at night thinking about all this.”

I nodded my head but said nothing.

“I keep thinking of ways to help her,” Kutsak continued.  “Today we’re calling all the elders to come here and call the spirits with a rice wine jar.  We’ve already killed the pig.  That’s what this spirit pole is for.  I went to a traditional healer yesterday and got this,” he held up a 1.5 liter water bottle filled with chips from a variety of trees.  He had filled the bottle with alcohol which had now turned pink from the healing mixture.  “I let Jyang drink this during the day.  If the ceremony today doesn’t work I think I’ll call another shaman to try sucking out the evil ones again.  If that doesn’t work I know another shaman we could go to in Raaveh Village.  And if that doesn’t work I want to take her to a Khmer woman I know who is renowned for her ability to see into the supernatural world.  She’ll be able to tell us what’s wrong.  I wish we had money for an even greater healer.”

I continued to nod and listen to this young man’s heart.  Some people feel guilty talking about their spirit ceremonies around me thinking that I don’t approve.  But Kutsak wanted me to know that he was doing all he could for his wife.  I could see love in his heart and I knew my God had given him that love.  This wasn’t a time to condemn him or his efforts to save his wife.  It was a time to listen, to love, and to encourage.  At the same time I wondered how I could show him the All Powerful!

“This would be a whole lot easier if we just spoke with your God,” he added, glancing up at me with another smile.  “He wouldn’t take anything from us.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.  “He loves us so much and doesn’t want us to become poverty stricken with no food for our families.  He’s willing to help us even when we don’t have anything.”

Just then Jyang called from the cooking area.  She was sitting by the fire.  I followed Kutsak over to where she was.  She too greeted me warmly.  “Have you called the chief yet,” she asked her husband.  “We should probably get started with the ceremony pretty soon.”

I sat there listening to them discuss where the elders would sit and what they would offer them.  I knew the Lord was close, but I felt so helpless to do anything.  I had come to share God’s love, but I felt like another “healer” in the long line of hopefuls?  For that matter, weren’t they using Chief God as just another power to try, hoping they could get something from him but willing to try others in the same way at the same time?  I had left the village several days before feeling so good about how God was working in their lives.  I now felt discouraged.  How could God break through to them?  And what was my part?

“I can tell how deeply you care for me,” Jyang said, instantly bringing me out of my swirling thoughts.  “I don’t have anyone else who cares for me as you do.  You do care.  And I long for you to talk again – with Chief God.”

I was surprised.  With all these ceremonies and sacrifices, why was she thinking of Chief God?  What did it matter if we prayed or not?  But she seemed to sincerely desire me to stop and “talk” with him again.  I loved how she said that.  “Talk” with him.  It’s the word Johanna and I have always used in the Pnong language for prayer.  But sometimes people exchange that word for another term that only the Christians use when they talk to God.  For the villagers of Boan Village, to “pray” seems foreign and scary.  It reminds them that Christianity is a foreign religion brought to them from other countries.  And to “pray” to that god really has nothing to do with “talking” to the Pnong God who created the world.  That God they know of and are willing to trust.

Thus I nodded my head and placed my hands on her feet again.  Kutsak was by the fire and he nodded his head with great eagerness and anticipation.  With eyes wide, looking at the ceiling and around the room above their heads, I began talking with Chief God.  He was very near, “Oh Chief God.  Thank you for loving us as your children.  Thank you for being with Jyang and Kutsak every night as they sleep.  We don’t understand why her feet are still hurting, but you know.  You can see everything.  We ask you now to stay close to Jyang and Kutsak and their children.  Fill their house completely full with your spirit.  When the jyaks (sorcerers) come at night make them run away as soon as they see you here.  Keep the witches and the evil spirits far away.  And please make Jyang’s feet better again so she can walk.  Thank you!”

Kutsak nodded his head again with sincere thanks and appreciation.  Then to my surprise he said, “Now I’d like to talk with Chief God.”  Before I could even respond he began, “We want to tell Chief God that we want him to be in our home.  We want him to help Jyang feel better.  We want him to make the jyaks  and the witches and the demons and the spirits run far away from our house.  We want him to stay here with us.  We want him to be with our fields and help them to grow well.  We want him to be with our girls who are at school.”  He paused and looked up at me a bit unsure.  Then with a smile he said, “All finished.”

Both Jyang and Kutsak smiled at me as if to say, “Oh we feel so much better.”  After a short pause, Kutsak then glanced at his wife, stood up, and said, “I’d better finish the spirit pole.  They’ll be arriving shortly.”

Then it was just Jyang and I.  I sensed this was the time to speak and I again searched the room with my eyes reminding myself how close my God was.  But I still felt discouraged.  I imagined a long line of healers, shamans, and witch doctors.  And there in that line, was God – just another healer to try.  I had hoped Kutsak and Jyang would turn away from the spirits of the trees, the spirits of the hills, the spirits from the sorcerers, and the spirits from the witches.  I had hoped they would see God All Powerful and turn to Him and Him alone.  I glanced at Jyang.  Why hadn’t God healed her?

For over a decade now I’ve been asking that same question.  Koin had died!  Hadn’t God heard my cries?  I’ve prayed for so many others and then watched them weaken and die.  Others have gotten better after taking medicine even though I prayed for a miracle.  But before you say, “Well God uses medicine to heal too,” what about the numerous times a villager gets well after a shaman uses his magic charms?  Does God use charms?  I prayed for those people too but saw no results.  Then the shaman came and they got better.  What is God thinking?  He could easily show his might.  Why doesn’t God blow them away with his power?  Why doesn’t he heal them when they cry out to him?  Why doesn’t he show them just how huge he is and how different he is?

Feeling confused, disappointed, and discouraged I prayed silently for words.  “Jyang, Chief God doesn’t always heal us when we ask him to,” I began.  “I’ve asked God to heal me when I’m sick and then waited a very long time.”  A pang of empathy moistened my eyes as I thought of my voice, still sore after even the shortest song.  One week from now will mark a year that I’ve been praying for healing.  “Jyang, it’s not because he can heal me that I love him.  I want him near me even when he doesn’t heal me.  I long for him to stay with me, chasing away all the evil ones, even if I don’t ever get better.  Even if I die I want him near.”

Jyang watched me closely, with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Jyang, the elders tell us that in the very beginning of time there was no sickness.  There was no death, no dying, no pain.”

“Yes!  Yes!” she exclaimed.  “I’ve heard them say that. I’ve heard them tell about the very first people who lived on this earth and they didn’t ever get sick or die.  Yes, you are right.”

“Jyang, the elders also tell us that we humans forgot about Chief God and began offering sacrifices to the spirits of the hills and the trees.  We’ve forgotten Chief God.  We’ve asked other gods to help us.  They came when we called and helped us – a little.  But then they began to direct their hatred against us.  They made us sick.  They hurt us.  They made us cry.  They demanded all of our animals as sacrifices.  They made us poor.”

“I’ve heard the elders say such things,” she nodded.  “The gods we worship now do take everything from us.  The sorcerers are jealous of anything we have and come to take it away.  We don’t follow Chief God anymore.”

“We have great sin on us,” I continued.  “We have done horrible things.  We humans still do.  We hate each other.  We fight and argue.  Sometimes we even hit each other or shoot each other.  We kill each other.  We direct our hatred towards our fellow humans just like the evil gods do.  We have become like those gods.  But Chief God hasn’t forgotten us.”

I paused, glancing up again at Jyang to see if she was following me.  Her eyes were glued to mine.  Without turning away I said, “Jyang, Chief God has told us that he will make everything new someday – just like it was in the very beginning.  There won’t be sickness or pain or death.  Everything will be new.”

“Really?”  She exclaimed with amazement.  Then, “Oh well, we’ll probably be dead by then.”

I smiled and then continued, still looking directly into her eyes.  “Well that’s why I love Chief God so much.  He guards our souls when we die and watches over them.  When he makes everything new he will give us life again.”

The faintest smile began to lift Jyang’s entire face as if she couldn’t stop it.

“Your baby who died last year…Chief God will bring her back to you and place her in your arms.  He’ll make us all alive again so we can enjoy the place he made new.”

Jyang’s face erupted in joy.  Yet she began to squint and her eyes seemed to penetrate me.  It was as if she were saying, “I so long to believe you, but please, please don’t lie to me.”

The  words don’t translate into English well.  The Pnong believe that the soul of the dead travels into the land of the dead.  It may return in a different form, but the one who has died is dead forever.  Thus saying that God guards our soul and watches over it means that he holds our identity even after we die.  That, to the Pnong is incredible news.  The thought that a departed loved one could ever return to life is completely foreign to them.

“When God takes care of our soul, can we talk?” Jyang wanted to know.

“Well, I’ve never died…” we both laughed, “But I believe that God lets our soul sleep.  He guards it and remembers it, but we don’t know anything.  The dead won’t know anything again until Chief God wakes them up with new life.”

Finally Jyang looked away.  Still smiling and squinting I could tell she was trying to make sense of this totally new thought as she stared hard at the wall.  Finally she looked back at me.  The squinting was gone.  She just shone with radiant joy.  “If that’s true, Chief God truly is wonderful!”

In that moment I heard Him.  He said to me, “Braden, thanks for delivering this message to Jyang today, but the message is also to you.  I’m not a God who heals you every time you’re sick.  I don’t try to compete with all the healers and spirits who say they can cure illness.  I am the God who will one day make everything new.  I am the God who will wipe every tear from your eyes.  And I’m the God who longs to hold you now when you hurt!  Will you let me hold you, Braden?”

On a Hilltop with God

I hurried out of the hut and rode my motorcycle quickly to the tallest hill behind the village.  I’ve been there often, for it’s there I’ve often met with God.  And this time I knew He was calling.  It’s from that crest that I can see the glowing hills appareled in raiment of brilliant greens rolling out before me in all directions.  I flipped the kickstand down and killed the engine.  In the silence that followed, the wind began to sing to me as it tossed my hair.  I felt him so close I wondered if His fingers were running through my hair.  Tears stung my eyes.

“This is why you’re here,” he said to me.  “I called you here for this – to understand the message I just gave to Jyang.”

Still blinking the tears, I turned, trying to take in the awesomeness laid out before me as far as I could see.  Then, lifting my hands to the heavens, I spoke softly into the wind.  The words that came seemed to be from Him as well:

“I came to change them

But I was changed

I came to teach them

But I was taught

I came to bless them

But I was blessed

I came to convert them

But I was converted”

Then the tears flowed freely and I felt the sobs shake my whole being.  I stood before Him now, so small – so insignificant.  “Oh Lord,” I prayed.  “I have often failed you.  I have fallen short in your plan for this land.  Why did you choose me to go to the Pnong?  You see how hopeless I am at sharing You – for you are so much higher, so much greater, so much deeper, so much wider than I can ever hope to grasp.  Thus I place the Pnong in Your hands Father.  Thank you for this opportunity to live among them and share their world for a season.  Thank you for touching me, changing me, teaching me, blessing me, and converting me here in this place.  I am yours Lord!  Take me!”

And in that moment I felt affirmed.  I felt empowered.  I felt a boldness sweep over me – for I was with my God.  He was far beyond any healer, any sorcerer, any shaman, any witch or demon.  I suddenly longed to talk of him to anyone who would listen.

And then a memory swept over me.  I glanced around me and realized I had been here before in a vision.  Several years ago, while experiencing a debilitating fatigue that lasted many months, I had lain in bed praying one afternoon.  And before me a vivid dream or vision began to play out.  I stood on this exact hill.  Before me stood a great black warrior; fierce, ugly and grotesque in appearance.  I recognized him as one from the forces of evil.  He stood tall and proud with unabated ferociousness.  He seemed to be guarding the highpoint above the village and didn’t seem aware of my presence.

Then I glanced down towards the village below.  I could see beautiful ones of great light walking slowly down the valley towards the village.  They seemed to be celestial angels, come to fill the village with their warmth and light.  I could hear their voices lifted in a strange, yet wondrous song.  The sound was almost mournful but filled with hope and assurance of some great event.

Then my eyes were drawn to the grass at me feet.  There I saw a tiny yellow flower.  It was so small I could easily have missed it.  But somehow it seemed to stand out, as if I were meant to see it in this moment.  I glanced around and saw two or three more of them, each one hidden and unnoticed.  Then something grand happened which words can’t fully describe.  Suddenly from under the flowers a great light shot forth from the ground high up into the sky.  I stepped back in utter amazement and awe.  Glancing around I realized light was coming from other flowers all around the hills about us.  And the light was bursting forth as flood waters might tumble down a valley.  The great spirit of darkness I had seen was gone.  I couldn’t find him anywhere and the earth was suddenly completely different.  The light continued to explode forth and I was nearly blinded by its beauty.

With that vision now fresh in my mind again, I stood in amazement recognizing the exact same spot from my vision.  I felt a distinct feeling of déjà vu.  I instantly glanced up to see if the horrible beast of darkness was standing there, right where I’d seen him in the vision.  I half expected to see him.  I could see no one there with my eyes, but I sensed there was more than I could see before me.  I then glanced down wondering if the tiny yellow flower would be there.  I could see a small white one, but no yellow one.  I smiled to myself thinking, “What did you expect?”  I took a step to the right and my eyes were drawn to something yellow way down in the grass, nearly completely hidden from view.  It was a tiny yellow flower.  Tears again stung my eyes as I stooped to part the grass and place my hands tenderly around this precious jewel.  It was indeed the same flower!  It looked orchid-like with little spots of maroon color and maroon velvet.  I glanced around me and saw two more just like it.  But they were the only ones I could find on the hilltop – just like in my vision.  “He’s not just another Healer,” I whispered.  “He’s the hidden orchid of gold.”

God’s ways are often hidden from us – his beauty shielded from sight by all that we consider to be normal life.  He doesn’t compete with healers by healing.  He doesn’t show up sorcerers with sorcery.  He doesn’t compete against doctors with a cure.  Nor does he help the financially broke with money, the divorced with a new spouse or the fatherless with a new dad.  Instead he offers good news to the poor, comfort to the broken hearted, freedom to those held captive, and sight to those who can’t see.

You read right over that didn’t you.  The text has become a cliché, a tiny yellow flower in the grass to miss.  He says he offers good news (something of hope, joy, gladness) to the poor (or suffering and afflicted in some translations).  That’s something to rejoice about – good news for those who have only bad!!!!  He offers comfort to the broken-hearted.  Wow, who can comfort us more than God when our very hearts are breaking?  Yet he says he will!  He’ll always be with us on this earth no matter how great the suffering or pain.  What wonderful news!  He offers freedom to the captives.  All of us are captives here on earth.  And we’re all held captive by our pain, our fears, our crutches, our addictions, our selfishness, our anger.  He promises to free us of all that.  Freedom!   Do you hear that?  Freedom!!!  Wow!!!

He offers sight to the blind.  Once again, that’s all of us.  We’re all blind.  We can’t see Him or what he has in mind for us.  We can’t see where he wants to take us or what he envisions for us.  We can’t see or understand his ways.  We go on with our own agendas walking right past him – like the three blind mice!  Yet He says to us, “I offer you sight – to see like I see!”  Wow!  He truly is the tiny orchid of gold!  Oh let’s not walk past him, turning to what seems more obvious and clear to us instead.  His beauty if far beyond all that we can imagine if we’ll just stoop down to notice!  And these promises aren’t about someday in the future.  They are for now, this very moment!  His words to the disciples are also for us:

“I won’t leave you like orphans.  I will come back to you.  In a little while the people of this world won’t be able to see me, but you will see me [through heart eyes]…You will know that you are one with me, and I am one with you.”  John. 14:18-20  (Words in brackets mine.)

“I will be with you always, even until the end of the world.”  Matthew 28:20

Love,

Braden, Johanna, Keenan & Jaden

P.S.  Yau was completely back to health by my next visit to the village with no explanation of what happened other than, “I’m well now!”

Walking with God

Talking with the Possessed

“I want to eat human flesh,” he screamed from his chains.  That’s how the villagers described the man before me now.  But he wasn’t raging.  He wasn’t throwing grown men off three at a time with one swipe of his hand.  He wasn’t setting motorcycles on fire or pouring gasoline over himself while reaching for a lighter.  He was just sitting there like any other person.  What was I supposed to say?

The week before, Daniel and I had traveled to Punih Village to pray for a man that villagers described as “possessed”.  Without even knowing it, I sat with the man and talked with him.  Only after did I find out Krulap was the same man who had been raging about, screaming for human flesh.  When I asked the family if I could pray for Krulap and the household they had answered, “You can come back in six days after the shamans have completed their ceremonies to cure him.  We don’t want to intervene in their work or the evil ones may come again and enter him again.”

So here we were, six days later, to pray for Krulap.  Would the family let us pray this time?  What would happen?  Would the demons enter Krulap again?  Daniel and I had read Ephesians 6:10-18 before going out and we had prayed together.  But we had no idea what we would find.  In fact, we found nothing of the ordinary.  Krulap was gone when we arrived, but one phone call brought him back.  He’d been at a friend’s house.  “I’ve just been so bored all the time,” he told us as he came up the stairs.  “I needed to get out of the house.”

He shook our hands warmly and then sat down.  Krulap is just a young man in his early twenties.  No matter how much I tried to imagine him as a raging monster, I couldn’t.  He just seemed too nice, too sane, too normal.  As we talked we began to learn about this interesting man.  He sent himself to motorcycle mechanic school in the capital city for seven months.  Then he returned to the province to work for a Khmer mechanic.  “I decided the best way to put into practice what I had learned was to watch a real mechanic,” he explained.  “Then if I had any questions I could ask him.”

But Krulap has done more than watch and learn.  He has plans.  He bought two parcels of land in two different districts of this province that don’t yet have good roads.  He plans to start a motorcycle mechanic shop in each.  As he shared with us his plans and his dreams, my heart went out to him.  “I just have so much I want to do and learn still,” he explained.  “I want to learn English and learn to fix all types of motorcycles.  I want to learn to fix small machines.  I want to own and operate my own mechanic shops and have others working for me.”

Then Krulap sighed.  I wondered what he was thinking.  I suddenly saw him as a man of dreams that had been bound and gagged, drugged and abused.  What right did Satan have to enter him and cause him to send an entire village running?  I didn’t know but I very much wanted to invite God to come to his assistance.

“Some sicknesses don’t get better with medicine,” I explained.  “Some sicknesses are from forces of evil – spirits of darkness.  They sneak around at night and try to hurt us.  They have great power.  But they are scared of Chief God who is light.  When they see him they run away and can’t come back.  I’d like to talk with Chief God right now and ask him to stay with you.  Do you mind?”

Krulap immediately nodded his head and motioned for me to continue.  He seemed interested.  “Oh Chief God,” I began.  “Krulap is sick and we think it comes from a jyak, a sorcerer, or a witch.  I don’t know anything about helping him but I invite you to come and heal him.  I invite you to come and fill his home.  I invite you to come and sit with him and stay with him.  We are so thankful you are our Father and that you love us as your own children.  For indeed you did give life to each of us.  And we ask you now to come to be with Krulap and allow him to walk away from the power of the forces of evil.  Thanks.”

During the prayer I looked at the ceiling and raised my hands.  I looked around the room as I talked.  But Krulap’s eyes never wavered.  He watched my face intently the entire time.  Daniel later said that Krulap stared constantly at me all during the prayer.  I wonder what was going through his mind.  I wonder if he truly is free from the power of the evil ones.  All we could do was pray for him and love him and tell him that we would continue praying for him.  Would you please pray for Krulap as well.  Pray that God will truly set him free from the powers of the evil ones.  And pray that he will come to know Chief God as more than a God and more as a friend.

Walking With God

I love walking with the Lord!  It’s been my privilege to walk with Him to the Pnong villages thousands of times over the past 9 years.  This morning I traveled the dangerous roads once again to Boan Village.  As I turned off the main, paved road, I could see the red clay road to the village was still slippery from the night’s rain.  I knew soon the tires of my motorcycle would be slipping this way and that.  But I felt a peace, a calm, inside me knowing that I was not alone.  There was One who now rode with me.  I spoke out loud into my helmet, “Father, I commit myself once again to you.  The roads are difficult this morning, but you’ve called me to go and I am answering that call.  Thank you for riding with me.”  Then I turned off the pavement and slowly made my way over the grassy hills, now glowing brilliant green in the early morning rays.  I smiled.  I was with Him.

As I parked the motorcycle outside Jyang’s house I remembered the visit with her just two days before.  “Mbut Keenan, my foot hurts,” she said, pointing to her heel.  I glanced down to her left where the new little infant lay on the raised platform.  The babe lay there sleeping, eyes tightly closed, with two little fists resting near her chin.  Rich black hair covered her tiny little head.  She was only a week old.  Everyone had held their breath as Jyang went into labor while remembering, with chills, the one she’d lost just the year before.  Something had gone wrong.  An arm couldn’t get through.  The baby had come feet first.  She died without ever seeing her mommy or daddy.  This new little one was a miracle – a reminder of the beauty of life.

“My foot’s been hurting for the past five days now,” Jyang continued.  “I can’t even stand up on it.  I have to use a cane to get around like an old lady.  I didn’t injure it.  I’ve been laying here with the baby.  I can’t see a cut or a wound anywhere.  It just hurts from the inside out.  And it seems to be a bit swollen.  See?”

I glanced down where she was pointing and couldn’t see anything wrong with the heel from the outside.  I sat down beside her on the raised plat form to get a closer look.  “That’s very strange.  Are you sure there is no wound?”

“No.  There is no cut or burn.  I have no idea why it’s hurting.”  Then lowering her voice to almost a whisper she said, “The elders say that a pain like this means a sorcerer has entered the foot and is eating it from the inside out.  It’s not like any other wound.”

I sat there examining her foot in silence.  “The elders are right that some sicknesses can’t be cured with medicine.  Sometimes a sorcerer or a witch, an evil spirit or a demon, sends us sicknesses and the doctors can’t help with their medicines.  That’s why when my wife gets sick, or my boys, I talk with Chief God and ask him to heal them.”

Jyang’s entire face lit up as she said, “Really?”

“Yeah.  Chief God is so wonderful.  He loves us so much.  He is the one who made us in the very beginning.  We are his children.  We can talk with him anytime and he hears us.”

“But I don’t know how to talk with him.”

“You may not know how to talk with him, but he knows how to hear you.  It’s just like with your children when they are first learning to talk.  They try to say all kinds of things to you that you can’t understand, right?  But even though you can’t understand everything, you listen carefully and try to understand what they mean and what they need.  That’s how it is with Chief God.”

Jyang smiled as this new thought settled into her mind.  “You mean I can just talk to him while I lay here with my baby and he will hear?”

“That’s exactly right.  He can hear you anywhere and anytime.  And he loves to listen to you.  He loves you and loves you to talk with him.”

That was two days ago.  I had left her house while her face was still glowing.  I’ve known Jyang and her husband Kutsak for many years.  We’ve had many wonderful discussions together.  I’ve always seen Kutsak as open and searching, but for some reason he’s also careful in the way he talks with me about religion.  His grandfather was a Shaman and Kutsak knows much about the spirits.  Jyang has always been so nice to me, yet she too has always seemed on guard when I talk about Chief God.  That’s why I was surprised the way she reacted when I told her Chief God could heal her foot.

I’d called her the day after my visit and asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital.  I didn’t blame her for not wanting to ride their motorcycle on the slippery roads with a new baby.  During the phone conversation she told me that she was some better and wanted to wait another day.  “Have you been talking to Chief God still?” she asked me.

“Yes I have.  And I know he hears and is with you.”

“Well I think my foot is getting better,” she explained.  “I don’t think I need to go to the hospital now.  But call me tomorrow morning and see if I’m still better than.  If not, I’d like to go to the hospital then.”

Now as I prepared to enter their home I thought of the conversation I’d just had with her.  “My other foot is hurting now too,” she’d told me.  “I think I’d better call a shaman who can suck out the evil one in my foot.  Maybe I’ll go to the hospital in a few days.”

I hadn’t known what to say exactly except, “Well, I’m still talking with Chief God.  I know he is with you.  Please let me know if you get better.”

Since I had already packed my bags, in preparation to go get her, I decided to head out on the motorcycle and sit with her once again, reminding her of who Chief God was.  And that’s what brought me to her doorway now.

“Mbut Keenan, come in,” Kutsak called out as soon as he saw me take my helmet off.  He came right over to me to shake my hand in the familiar Pnong greeting.  “We’re so glad you still came.  Jyang is now hurting in both feet and she struggles to even walk outside the home for a shower.  Please come see her.”

I made my way through the dim-lit house into the back room where Jyang was sitting by a cooking fire.  She smiled at me as I entered.  “This foot isn’t any better this morning.  And the other one now hurts almost as bad.  I’m scared the jyak is eating me.  That’s why I think it’s best to call the shaman tomorrow morning, early.  He can come and suck out the evil one.”

Kutsak sat down beside Jyang on a rough little stool.  “Have you ever seen a shaman at work?”

I shook my head.

“It’s really amazing to watch,” he continued.  “I’ve seen it many times.  A true shaman knows how to suck out the evil ones from inside us.  He’ll come with a little hollow stem and use it for a straw to suck on Jyang’s foot.  He’ll then suck until he forces a tiny, worm-like, creature out of her.  I’ve seen them.  They are tiny – maybe the size of a rice kernel.  And they wiggle sometimes.  The shamans who lie to us and don’t really know how to heal try to trick us by hiding what they pull out as soon as they get it.  But the real shamans show us what they find.  I’ve seen them wiggling.  They don’t let us touch them since they could disappear if we do.  But I’ve watched the shamans take that little tiny worm thing and cut it into pieces with their knife until its dead.  Blood comes out.  Sometimes they just put it into their little bag.  But usually the person get’s well afterwards.”

I glanced around the room as Kutsak finished, imagining where my God was.  I knew he was near and I whispered to him, “Oh Lord, help me turn their minds to you.  I’m not sure how or what to say.  But in this moment, please let my mouth be a way for your words to be spoken.  Please speak through me in this moment.”

“The sorcerers are so evil,” I declared.  “They don’t pity us at all and they want to destroy us.”  Both Kutsak and Jyang were nodding their heads.  “But the elders, the ancient ones who know the stories from the ages past, speak of One who loves us humans.  They say he made the entire world.  He created the humans.  I once heard an old story teller in Raaveh Village tell of Chief God.  He said that Chief God made the deer and the bears, the cows and the water buffalo.”

When I stammered a bit, trying desperately to remember the beautiful sing-songy way the ancient story teller had captured the creation story Kutsak said, “Oh, I think I know what you mean.  In the very beginning, Chief God created the world and everything in it.  He made the large deer and the small deer, the trees and the bees, the fly and the flower, the fruit and the fragrance, the buffalo and the bull, the people in the all villages and the beings in all the world.”

My mouth must of dropped open just a bit in surprise because Kutsak suddenly added with a grin, “I too have heard the best storytellers speak of this God.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was trying to say.”  I mumbled.  Just then Kutsak’s older sister walked in and greeted me warmly.  I didn’t recognize her.

“My sister is here to help us while Jyang is sick,” Kutsak explained.  “I’m having trouble doing all the cooking and the cleaning and still getting our fields planted.  I can’t do it all.  So my sister has come from another village to help.”

The woman sat down next to Jyang on the raised platform to listen to our conversation.  So I continued, “Chief God created the world and all that is in it.  He even created the spirits that surround us.  But according to the ancient storytellers and the elders, one of the spirits Chief God made became terribly angry and came to this earth to hurt all of us.  That spirit told the people they had to serve only him from then on.  He treated them terribly and demanded sacrifices of chickens, cows, and water buffalo.  He made them poor and still he demanded more sacrifices.  He made them terribly sick and even killed them even though they gave him all their animals.  And to this day we still serve that god and all his evil helpers.  We have forgotten Chief God who made us and loves us like his own children.”

Suddenly I was interrupted by a sound at the door.  It was Pumrok.  “Mbut Keenan.  Oh it’s so good to see you.  I’m so happy you’ve come.  I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”

I was thrilled to see the woman we’d been praying with for so many weeks.  Her husband died a horrible death of bleeding just a month or so before and the whole village had warned that she would be unsafe at night for many months to come.  “The sorcerers will certainly be walking,” they said.  “They are going to come at night and try to take you too.”

Though I was glad to see her, the timing seemed wrong.  I had so much more to say about Chief God.  But to my surprise after a warm greeting she simply sat down as if to hear our discussion too.

Kutsak quickly continued, “I don’t know for sure, but I think there must be good spirits and bad spirits like there are good and bad people.  They must be organized like people as well with chiefs and district leaders and governors.  I imagine that there are some much more powerful than others and with many lords and rulers among them.”

His words took my mind back to Ephesians 6:12, “We are fighting against forces and authorities and against rulers of darkness and powers in the spiritual world.”

“That’s exactly right,” I added.  “And that’s why it’s so important for us to turn to Chief God, who is the ruler of all.  He is the one who made everything and thus is the most powerful of all spiritual beings.  He loves us so much and longs to help us.  He loves us as his own children and doesn’t demand sacrifices of chickens and ducks, cows and buffalo.”

Turning to Kutsak I said, “What if your little girl fell down and hurt her foot?   What if she cried out, ‘Daddy, my foot hurts.  Please come help me.’  What if you walked over to where she was lying and said, ‘Give me a chicken first, then I’ll help you.’”

At this the entire room exploded with laughter.  “That’s not what he’d do,” Jyang was saying.

“He wouldn’t ask for a chicken first,” Pumrok declared.  “He would rush to help her up.”

“He would immediately try to make her foot feel better,” Kutsak’s sister added.

“It wouldn’t be right of him to demand a chicken first would it?” I asked the group.  They all shook their heads, realization sinking in.  The room was quiet.

“But we are scared to enter your religion,” Kutsak finally blurted out.  The room was silent again.

“Who said anything about entering my religion?” I asked.  “Chief God isn’t my God.  He is the God of the Pnong.  The ancient storytellers speak of him often.  He truly is the God of the Pnong.  He’s the God I turn to when I or my family is in trouble when we’re here in the land of the Pnong.  He is the One who made the world.  He calls all people his children.”

Before I could finish Jyang cut in, “Chief God is the One the storytellers call Korain Preh.  It is he who made the world in the beginning and it is he who Mbut Keenan is now telling us about.  He truly is the God of the Pnong.”

“Then teach us more of this God,” Kutsak cried out with great longing in his voice.  We know very little of this God, though he sounds like such a wonderful God.  Tell us more.  We want to know Him too.”

Just then the mid-wife came in to check on Jyang.  She too sat down to listen to the interesting conversation.  I continued, “Well, I always ask Chief God to be with me where ever I go.  I ask him to fill my house when we are sleeping there.  I ask him to ride my motorcycle with me when I travel to the villages.”

“It’s like when you took the dead bodies in your truck to the burial sites isn’t it?  We all came with you when you buried your Pnong father and then again when Pumrok’s husband died.  We rode there with you in the truck.  We all expected to see the sorcerers which always come to scare us when we bury our dead.  But Chief God was with us there in the truck wasn’t he.  That’s why we didn’t see any sorcerers.”

I smiled.  “That’s exactly right.  That’s why the sorcerers didn’t appear to you then.”

Before I could say more Pumrok broke in, “And that’s why the sorcerers and the spirits have stayed away from my house ever since my husband died.  Everyone said they’d bother me each night for sure, but I haven’t seen even one.”

Kutsak’s older sister gasped in disbelief.

“Chief God has truly been present in my home,” Pumrok continued.  “That’s why I feel safe there now.   That’s why I haven’t seen a single sorcerer or spirit since my husband died.”

At this the mid-wife spoke up.  “I too am free from fear of the jyaks.  Ever since my own husband died many years ago and I asked  Chief God into my home, I have never been afraid.  Everywhere I go I invite Chief God to walk with me and he does.  He walks with me.  And I am not afraid.”

As she spoke the words, the mid-wife smiled a beautiful toothless grin of freedom.  She then looked at me with great happiness, her face completely aglow with joy.  She reached out and took my hand and held it tightly.  I squeezed back.  For this mid-wife was no stranger.  She was in fact my very own Pnong mother – Yau.  Her testimony brought the moisture to my eyes as we sat together still holding hands.  The room echoed with the excited discussion of how close Chief God was and how good and powerful he truly was.  And I closed my eyes for a brief moment to thank Him.  For indeed his presence was thick in the room.  We all felt it.

“Will you speak with Chief God once again before you leave?” Jyang asked me with bated breath.  The room grew quiet as I lifted my voice to Him who called us each to life.  “Oh Chief God, thank you for being here with us.  Thank you for loving us as your children.  Thank you for helping us even when we don’t have anything to give to you.  Thank you for taking away our fear of the jyaks, the witches, the sorcerers, the demons, and the spirits of darkness.  For they come at night, creeping in, trying to destroy us while it’s still dark.  But you light us up with your presence.  You are light.  And the darkness can’t stay when light is present.  So fill this place with yourself now.  Fill this home completely full.  Let the jyaks, the witches, the sorcerers, the demons, and the spirits of darkness run from you far away where they won’t scare us or harm us.  Keep them away.  We want you here with us now.”

Then I promised Jyang I would continue talking with Chief God on her behalf.  I reminded her that she too could talk to him any time.  Then with one final squeeze of Yau’s hands, I got back on my motorcycle and rode up the hill out of the village.

I love walking with my God.  For me he’s becoming as real as the motorcycle I cling to on the treacherous roads, as real at the blue sky overhead lighting the earth, as real as the swallows floating past me, and as real as the rolling greenery unfolding before my eyes which stretches on forever.  And it’s this same God who’s revealing himself to my Pnong friends.  Someday I will not be here with them, but I no longer need to be.  For he walks among them and they take his hand.

I do love walking with my God.  He’s the one who called me to this land.  And how can I praise him for this experience?  For I didn’t walk with him like this when I first arrived.  I sought him with books and knowledge.  I used commentaries and dictionaries, devotional books and sermons to find him.  And he was there.  But somewhere along this path among the Pnong He’s asked to just walk with me.  We leave my office filled with books and education and walk together in a world I didn’t even know existed this side of Heaven – hand in hand.  I didn’t know a relationship like this was possible with Deity.  For we walk and talk like friends of this earth.  But I know he’s so much more, for I see him in the lives of my Pnong friends as well.

I will miss each of them so much when we go.  For my God is leading me once again back across the ocean to a land I’ve always called my own.  I once thought it was there he wanted me to live out my life.  But he surprised me by calling me to a world foreign to me in every way.  He introduced me to people who raise elephants and eat pumpkin leaf soup.  He placed me in a world of spirits – those of the rice wine jars, the spirit poles, the trees, the waterfalls, the hills, and the sky.  And there, feeling completely lost and confused, he called to me again.  This time he asked me to take his hand and walk with him.  He took me back through everything I thought was clear and helped me to see my own walls and chains.  He showed me where my own familiar culture and core values held me from him.  I had come to ask the Pnong to rethink their beliefs and search for a God above all else.  And in the process I found Him taking me on the same journey.  And together we’ve looked up and seen him calling to us, reaching for us, coming for us.

Johanna and I have been in Cambodia for 10 years and six months now.  The time has gone quickly, too quickly – for I see now how fast life passes us all.  My only hope comes from knowing that this life is just the beginning and that we’ll have eternity to continue growing and learning and loving.  Johanna and I came here after clearly hearing God’s voice.  And we said we’d only return when that same voice called us home.  We’ve had dark nights, deep valleys, dry desserts, and chilly winds.  But we’ve also experienced the fragrance of blooming spring, the warmth of summer, and the joys and laughter of togetherness.  Now we’ve heard his voice again, calling us home.  For the past few years he’s been leading us to this point and now it comes as no surprise.  For his ways are never sudden or abrupt.

Looking back, it’s easy to see his providence.  He brought children into our lives at just the right time that we could take them home before they are school age.  This is important to us.  He gave us strength to face the toughest challenges and called us away from Cambodia only when we knew we could stay forever if he asked.  And he provided another precious family to come and live among the Pnong to continue sharing his love with them.  He miraculously brought them in time to live and work with us a year before our departure so we could assist and encourage them in language learning and culture study.

This December 6, 2011, we will have been in Cambodia eleven years.  We don’t have a definite date confirmed, but we plan to return home sometime shortly before that date.  We’ve always known he would lead us back someday, for both of us have always longed to encourage those in America who are searching for God but may not have found him behind the doors of our churches or beneath the steeples of our chapels.  The path before us is blurry, for we can’t see into the future.  But our God has indeed called us home again and home we will go.

I love walking with my God wherever he leads.  You have been on this journey with us as well.  You have been praying for us and for those we meet in the villages.  You have been supporting us in multiple ways.  Why?  We believe it’s because you are walking with the Lord as well, wherever he leads.  And he led you to be part of a team that blessed the Pnong people with the awareness of his presence and the promise that he would never leave.  Thank you for walking this path with us.

Our time is not yet over among the Pnong.  We have another half a year still.  And I feel certain that this time will be a critical time of spiritual battle.  We ask you to continue walking this path with us wherever it leads.  For we here in Cambodia may need your prayers more now than ever before.  Pray that we are able to finish all that God wants us to finish.  Pray that we’ll be able to encourage and bless Cara and Daniel in all the ways God wants us to.  And pray that these final moments with our Pnong friends would be filled with critical discussions and experiences, all pointing to Him.

Many stories are still developing so stay tuned. www.searchingforthesea.com

Sincerely,

Braden, Johanna, Keenan, and Jaden