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Methodist World Missions Stories [Click on the "Missions" link above to enter FMWM's web site.] [Click here to go directly to Free Methodist World Mission People Magazine online!] |
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How
Does the Story End? Disneyland opened when I was five years old. Shortly thereafter, a TV show began with the same name. Later it became "The Wonderful World of Color." I anticipated this show every week. There was only one thing I didn't like. There were some programs that were shown in two parts. The words "to be continued" at the end of an episode meant days of waiting to see how the story would end. I guess we all like to have a happy ending; we like closure. Working in Cambodia, I've lived in two cities, Phnom Penh and Kampong Cham. I've been here about two years. As a result, I haven't had the time to witness an ending to a lot of episodes in the living dramas I see. Our stories take longer to unfold than TV programs do. Nevertheless, I have seen some good beginnings lately.
Last week I was jogging on the bridge that spans the Mekong River. As I started out, I saw an elderly woman walking slowly. Her clothes were a bit dusty. Everyone's clothes here are dusty, but if someone's clothes are very dusty it may be that they are very poor. As I finished my run, I saw her again. She was just beginning to cross the bridge. In her hand she had a small bundle of vegetables. I always carry a little money for drinking water as I'm usually thirsty when I finish. I crossed the bridge and put the palms of my hands together in the sign of respect when meeting someone older. I held out my hand and gave her a thousand riel note (about twenty-five cents — enough for a couple of days rice). I said to her, "Prea Yesu srolan nayuk!" (which means, "Jesus loves you!") She looked a little bewildered. Seeking alms is not rare here, but someone seeking those to give alms to is unusual. I have no ending for this tale. Only Father knows.
A few weeks back I was buying magic markers for the church. A young lad was watching me and smiling. I'd seen him many times collecting recyclables. (Many boys and girls in town do this; they're another dusty lot.) I gave him twelve cents for some lunch (500 riel). I saw him again last week and he ate with Sokhlin, my translator, and me. His name is Dahm Ti (pronounced tea). I invited him and his friends to come to our weekly English and Japanese classes and next week's medical clinic. How does this one end? The houses in Cambodia don't usually have doorbells. We have a doorbell on our gate. Some of the neighborhood children like to ring it and run off. It is annoying, especially when they hold it "on" for a while before fleeing. Yesterday I had just come home and was still in my car when one little blessing came by and thought to test my patience. He didn't run far enough or fast enough. I walked behind him and called him aside. I told him I was going to have a baby at the house soon, and that if he rings the bell, the baby won't be able to sleep. I thanked him and left. That night upon returning home from the post office and checking the medical team's reservations, he was waiting by the gate to greet me. He and his friends giggled at me, giggled at the dog and giggled at anything that moved. If this wasn't enough, I knew I scored big when he gave me a peace offering of four used plastic cups! You won't believe this, but as I write, someone rang the bell and ran off. If you know how this one ends, don't ring me! Another tale takes place in the village of Andohng Svai (Fountain of Mangoes), set at the edge of an old French rubber plantation. We drove on a bumpy road for two and a half hours to get there. Actually, only two hours were bumpy. Relatives of Sarah, our church secretary, live there. We were invited into their home. We took off our shoes and climbed the stairs. We drank some tea. The pot was kept hot by placing it in a hollowed out coconut (the husk remains, the nut is gone). The patriarch was pleased to receive a Christian comic book of the gospel.
In this village we went first to the leader's home. We waited for half an hour as he had to be retrieved from the karaoke bar. During that 30 minutes, his wife shared with us that her husband was seeing another woman and drinking a lot. She was broken hearted. She prayed to give her life to Christ that day. When her husband arrived, he gave us permission to hold meetings. He also requested we give him a phone card. This is the standard offering of respect (bribe) in such transactions. As we left this village, the patriarch of Sarah's family came over to shake my hand. It was a outgoing gesture, and very positive. I was delighted. This story will be continued next week when we hit the bumps again. A few days ago, I saw an elderly man walking on his knees. I gave him a couple of sandwiches. A man riding a motorcycle saw this exchange and thanked me for showing the man kindness. Our last tale is about getting permits for the medical team that is coming from Hong Kong. We needed to see the village leader, the police and the commune leader (head of a district of villages). Phone cards were legal tender again; however, this time I gave a gospel tract with each one. I called the tracts the phone card to Heaven. This was my second time to see one of the men; previously I gave him a Bible. So how will these stories, these living dramas, turn out? Next installment ... Well, concerning the recycle boys. Dahm Ti and his friends did not show up for the medical team. At least, our paths did not cross. I still hope to get a Khmer class going next year for these little ones.
As for the Fountain of Mangoes, we went back again. We had two teams of folks sharing. Our group only went to one house. As we began to talk, people from many homes gathered. Our hosts said there were Christians in their family but that they weren't very nice. They then informed us that they would become Christians if we built them a school. We declined their "generous" offer. After that we had a song time with the children. We stopped on the way home to buy vegetables and visit several small villages along the way to meet people. We'd buy a bag of chips for four cents and I'd show them a picture of my lovely wife. What fun. One village was Muslim. One of the men who went with us is a former Mormon. I'm going to his home soon to explain the "Way" more clearly. The secretary who helped us at the village center nearby brought his wife to the coffee shop. We met there a couple of months ago. At that time, however, I didn't know he was the secretary. They invited me to dinner. The medical team had an outreach group with it. Several teams went into Kampong Cham in the outer communes. A lot of people gave their hearts to the Lord. Grace was certainly full on those days. To be continued …
These are continuing stories we can all have a part in directing. Please
ask the Producer for a successful conclusion for each character. Your
part as supporting cast is essential. |
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