He's Like a Lion

Sitting at City Cafe with my teammates and a couple of our students drinking iced coffee and lemon teas; I listened to Dalin speak about the king and his recent passing. The conversation reminded me of the numerous sentiments I had read grading my students homework assignments earlier that day....

Jesse and I had no idea what innocently asking our students to write about the Pchum Ben holiday would turn into when the king died that same week. I shared that with her since she knows many of our students at the youth center and we began discuss why the Cambodian people were so sad and united in their mourning. Our student, Chhuy, wrote about how "children, teenagers, adults, and even elderly people" cried out loud when they heard the news. I cannot imagine what that day must have sounded like, as my team and I were miles away in a village praying and interceding with orphans for Cambodia and its people. (It certainly gives me greater insight to those two fiery little boys who continued to lift up their voices after all the others had stopped.)

 Dalin explained that this king was very important, because of all the things he had done to help Cambodia. He helped build homes and hospitals, most notably he is responsible for helping Cambodia gain independence from France and Thailand. She mentioned how wise and intelligent the king was in world politics. He could speak 7 languages, and had a great relationship with China-which is where he was when he died.

Then just as we were about to leave to get back to the base for our classes, a video montage of the king's 9 decades of life and accomplishments began playing on the television on the cafe- which usually has some awkward khmer soap opera or music video that looks like you'd have to be on acid to actually consider it entertainment-. A black and white photograph of the king scrolled across the screen and we commented on how handsome he was. That's when Dalin told us the king was only 15 when he came into power.

 All of sudden it hit me, no wonder these people are so united. Every Khmer person I talked to about the Pchum Ben holiday (held over 15 days culminating on the final day with a celebratory offering to the monks at pagodas for people's dead ancestors) mentioned how grieved they were. I had students who would barely talk after class, walk up to me and share their heart. Of course, they were glad to have come together and took part in this annual ceremony that is ingrained in Buddhist culture, but they were very much a part of the atmosphere of honoring and mourning the king in their county. For a man who had lead them well over the course of 75 years. Coming from the United States of America, where a president's term can only last eight years at best, it is so foreign to think of how this man really meant to this people. John F. Kennedy is the only person I can attach any similar weight (there was a picture of the King at the JFK memorial). Yet, the king's death is not a sudden tragedy. He lived a full life. He loved much. And was loved much in return.

Word around Cambodia (and even on the news) is that one night the king's face could be seen in the half-moon. Dalin was telling me how she, too, looked up into the night's sky. She said she is unsure of what she saw. However, reports from her friends, newsmedia, and people in other countries leant their testimonies to seeing the king's face in the heavenlies that night. Which is now all on FB for all to see:)

Later that night we had team time, our leaders surprised us with a movie night at the 3D theatre for one of Matt Scap's last evenings with us. Somehow we narrowed the 50 movie choices down to Lion King. Disney movies are just as good, if not better, when you're older I think. Number one: I like being able to understand everything that is going and being said. Number two: my spirit is now mature enough to grasp the simple things that point to Jesus. My epiphany while watching this childhood classic happened during the scene where Mufasa is disciplining Simba, teaching him a lesson and imparts the knowledge that the stars represent the kings of old how as his father, he'll never leave him even if he's not always their. There's a lot in that small interaction. I think a lot of times as Christians we hear things that seem so contrary to the Gospel and God we follow, so we disregard it. But I challenge you to take that which offends you and examine it anyway.

When Simba is done running from what he doesn't understand and follows the crazy monkey down the winding path to water and gazes into the pool, he finally begins to see. At first, all he takes in is his own reflection. Only when he really looks deep does he recognize that what he's actually beholding is his father's relection. "He lives inside of you," Rafiki narrates this revelation not for Simba but for the audience. Mufasa's spirit bursting forth through those cumulus clouds is almost chilling for me to think about. I mean, James Earl Jones voice is epic, but it also resonates with the voice of God. "You have forgotten who you are and so you have forgotten me." Just before coming to DTS, Father spoke something very similar to me. He called out my own Hakuna Matata attitude of apathetic mediocrity. I was birthed for a greater purpose and just because I didn't know how to get there didn't mean I knew how to live a good life on my own. Thankfully God does not punish his children, like Mufasa, he is slow to anger and means to discipline us; to guide us to and through our destiny.

The giant spirit lion in the clouds speaking identity, hope, and kingdom to his son is not an animated character or a fairy tale. He is not a nice idea or a story for our children. He is real, he's alive, and he's mighty enough to save us from ourselves. As followers of Christ we sing this song, "My God is not dead, he's roaring like a lion" Really think about what that song is saying in this context. Think about Mufasa rescuing his naive son and his friend who ran off and deliberately disobeyed him, remember with what heroics he ended up sacrificing his life for Simba's, and how after all of that he came in the clouds to call him higher. All those other stars in the sky may have been great kings, but his son was to bringing forth the kingdom right now! And Timon and Pumba, Nala, and even crazy old Rafiki were right behind him once he remembered who he was.

I think it is such an encouraging picture of the Kingdom we are bringing. That we serve a God who waited for us and pursued us even when we didn't listen. We serve a King who laid down his life as a love offering. One who has given us his spirit and power and promised to return for us soon. My God is a Lion whose roar is more stirring than Mufasa's. And He's not dead, deaf, or mute to my cries or desires because every part of him lives in me; man made in Father's image. But I have to choose to gaze in the water. When I see his reflection and feel his spirit inside me it is then that I will be able to hear his voice and walk in his confident authority. The fruit of this is life and life to the fullest.

So, the king of Cambodia, Lion King of Pride Rock and King of Kings. What's impressed upon my heart tonight is Jesus you are worth it all Lord, every nation, every song. Amen.

The Impoverished Spirit: Part 2

                            (In God's Economy what is the difference between Rich and Poor?)



     The King of Cambodia died on Monday. Pastor Vanney announced this during the evening's worship and prayer time at the orphanage we'd decided to spend our week-long Pchum Bun holiday in. Together, our team of 10 (complete now that our school leader Matt Scaporatti has joined us for 20 days; Cambo is the first stop of his Pastoral rounds for the teams in Asia. his first visit to Cambodia 2 years ago for his DTS. His team visited the same orphange and there are pictures to prove it. Haha a fine looking young man he was back then.) and the majority of the 31 kids who live at the orphanage prayed for the country.

It was one of the most stirring moments I have ever witnessed or been a part of. These children offered their petitions to God with more ferver than grown men. Eyes clenched, hands raised, and swaying back 'n' forth as we simultaneously prayed in our own languages. When everyone else had quieted down, these two little boys were still going strong. Chert and Darinth, I believe it was, standing their side by side. They were in their own little world, one could easily envision them before Father's throne. These were evidently confident sons, mighty warriors of 9 or 10, like David they were unafraid. They went on for a few minutes more by themselves, til their voices waned and the silence spoke of Father's delight and satisfaction in the them. That was night one, we hadn't even been there six hours and these little orphans were reminding us what it means to be sons of the Almighty King.

In those short hours, they had already latched onto us as if we were their older brothers and sisters returning home. Pastor Vanny told us that they had been praying for us to come and were so glad that we had finally arrived. That we could see, because we had children crowd around us on every side the moment we got out of the van. They clung to us with absolute contentment and joy. They welcomed us with songs and dance, the younger kids and then the teenagers each did their own choreographed performance. Their vivid voices rose and filled the church in the center of their little campus.

Behind the church are the the boys and girls dorms, the volleyball court, the picnic tables -where the children eat-, the outdoor kitchen -where the sweet mamas cook-and another small covered building where we ate our meals. Continue on and there is more land for gardening and growing food complete with a fenced off pond (the last team set up a filtration system so that the kids no longer have to hike with their buckets to get water). We stayed at the pastor's house which is on the other side of the church, at the entrance of the orphanage with fun little flower gardens growing around it (and the lone cow that hangs out there, too). The outhouses, with the showers,toilets, and 'squatty potties,' are wisely hidden behind the dorms, haha.
The church and volleyball court is where we spent just about all day, each of the four days we were there with the kids. In the mornings after breakfast and team time, we were in charge of songs, a bible lesson, and games until lunch. After lunch, was naptime. Yep, that's right...naptime. For two whole hours, I hadn't taken a nap since I got to Cambodia. I think I only took a couple in Kona. Needless to say, I wasn't disappointed that is was scheduled in or as Awakeners would say,'optionally-mandatory' either. It was such a gift from Jesus to be told to rest that I didn't even care how toasty it was. Sleep is sleep.


After naptime, we had various work duties we were able to help out with from pulling weeds in the cacti garden that grow dragon fruit to dismantling trees wrapped in vines and separating them for firewood and building materials. Following that we would meet back up with the kids for two more hours of funtime. We played a lot of games: Four Corners, Red Rover, kickball-that one was a hit, once the kids figured out the rules they didn't want to play anything else the rest of the afternoon-, Simon Says, Duck-duck-Goose! and we even learned some Khmer games (one which involved two people blindfolded in a circle of people acting as the barriers as one tried to find and tag the other person; basically Marco Polo without the water.

We played these in the church which sometimes would be ventilated by to small fans or outside in the moist heat of the day. We sweated A LOT! We had A LOT of fun. And a LOT of love was constantly going around. The kids that sat out of the games would pick flowers and decorate the girls hair. Actually, they got the boys (Jesse) too. They would make these necklaces and bracelets by thinning the stems of small flowers with their teeth and connecting them.They would joke with us by tickling and poking us in our sides. They would bring us bugs or kindly put them on us. Which was petrifing, but cute at the same time; it brought them laughter.

The laughter and smiles were the best with the way the dark eyes would shine. Their little shoulders would bounce up and down as their whole bodies shook with sheer exuberance. I'm trying to explain it the best I can, but there is really nothing like the joy of children. It gives me a whole new insight into why Jesus references how protective he is of little children. Why he upholds their faith as something, we as adults, should try to attain.The joy of children is what made doing skits hilarious and exciting, because of their reactions to how abandoned we would get playing the characters in the story of Daniel and Jonah. It was their cunning and joy that caused me to be fascinated by the way they would tie strings to these colorful flying beetles and just walk around with them. Sweet joy so dripped  from their tiny yet full voices that it enraptured me every morning at 7AM. It became the soundtrack to my quiet time and it is something that I am surely going to miss.

Wednesday night (before we had to rip ourselves away back to Battambang in the afternoon), we shared our testimonies with them concluding a time of worshipping Jesus together. Scap lead us out and they knew the few English songs we sang that night. We each shared a few  minutes about ourselves and what God has taught us that we wanted them to hold onto.Then we got to pray for them all individually. As Scap played again, we each walked around laying hands on small shoulders, cradeled their heads in our hands and speaking out who they were to the Lord. We interceded for their futures and who they would grow up to be. We thanked the Lord for his sons and duahgters.Powerful and brave,courageous and creative. Leaders and world-changers. These children have prayed for things in their village and seen huge and immediate change. Like there used to be horrendous smelling pigs, loud animals, and gamblers around the orphange. The kids went out, prayed, and it all stopped. So, we weren't praying for kids who had small faith to believe. No we were praying for those who have seen and accomplished that which we have hoped for.

So, what could we possibly say to them that they didn't already know. "Abide in me," Jesus said in John 15, "Abide in my love." Sharing and giving generously to one another in community was more than enough. Our little holiday was all about one thing. The same thing this whole being in Cambodia thing is about. It's about God. We worship, serve and love the same God. Regardless of nationality or language, we are all made in his image. Children, adults, orphans or missionaries; we are all a part of the same family and we need each other. Love God and love your neighbor as yourself (our students at the Youth Center learned about Matthew 22 for a 'relevant topic day' a couple weeks ago actually). We got to experience that for a Pchum Bun. Playing with children sounds good but seems pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Yet, in God's Kingdom economy, it is more valuable than the things most of us choose to spend our lives on.  


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True Life: I Am a Teacher

After two full weeks of teaching I have realized something. I am a teacher. A real life teacher. How did that happen? I am pretty sure I remember weighing the options as a kid. "Hmmm, I could be school teacher like Mom or a doctor like Dad." For some reason, being a physician sounded a heck of lot easier. Don't get me wrong, I remember the year I went to the same elementary school that my mom taught in. Getting to sit in on her third grade class when my first grade class was at recess and hang out with the older kids. She thrived in that room, with those students, and they loved her. But I also saw the late nights, heard the drama with parents and students; witnessed multiple things stress her out. As much as I knew my mom loved her job and was great at it, I didn't think I could cut it. Instead I opted for a life of math, science, and anatomy but we all know that didn't happen either. (Or at least it hasn't just yet.) Somehow, three years of journalism now qualifies me to teach English at a grade school and a youth center that would be the equivalent to a community college. I honestly have no clue how I got here. I have been silently struggling to reconcile the fact that I never saw myself as a teacher or a speaker, but now I am doing both. I used to doubt that I was creative, yet without it lessons and students would fail. What is slightly harder for me to accept, is the fact that I am pretty good at all of this. I finally admitted to myself that I like being called, 'Teacher' whether my students are 5 years old or 25. Whether we're in class playing games all day or trudging through phrasal verbs, my job is awesome and I thoroughly enjoy it even on the hardest days.

This is my Grade 1 Bible class. They barely speak any English. Vatha, the teacher that assists, knows very little also. He knows enough to translate and when we don't know how to communicate with each other we figure it out. This is one of my first classes with them at Salaa Hope Christian School. Most of the kids who go there are not believers, but the school has a great reputation in the community and that's why parents send their kids there to get an education. I teach this class on Mondays and Thursdays for 45 min in the morning. On this day, we learned the Creation story from Genesis 1 and I came up with some memory moves to help the kids remember each day. After the lesson, they wanted to demonstrate for their classmates. A few students came up one by one and then I had this idea for 7 volunteers to reinact each day:) It was the cutest thing ever and they had a ton of fun.