Reflections from Cambodia: Looking for the Lovely

I'm sick. A cold bug hit me four days into our stay in Phnom Penh. Now I sit on a metal chair watching young missionary families stream through the door for the Christmas service. In spite of the fever I feel, I can't help but tear up at the sight of these willing servants devoted to sharing Jesus with the Cambodian people.

Later, after a variety of musical selections and message, I venture from my seat, refreshment plate in hand, and visit with a few missionary moms. One's a veteran of 20 years, another a newbie to the field, but both testify that applying Philippians 4:8 (looking for the lovely) in the midst of sewer rats, rotting garbage, people darkened by sin and deception, oppressive heat that stifles the breath, language sounds that are foreign to the American ear, and a host of other challenges, was the turning point in their ability to endure daily.

I smile, a thrill skipping up my spine. Their words echo my heart. Part of my personal quest in coming to Cambodia is to embrace God's adventure and look for His beauty at every turn. I'd found Him in the faces of these missionary wives, my own daughter included, who sat a few feet from me smiling and talking with another young wife. These are precious reunions for missionary families spread out over the provinces, who only come together on occasion to worship and encourage one another.

Though weak from my cold, I'm empowered by what I've witnessed tonight, determined to continue my quest to enjoy the journey God has for me right now, right where He's placed me.    

Reflections from Cambodia: Spirit House

I peer out my bedroom window at the neighborhood. A golden spirit house sits in front of a cement wall. At breakfast I ask my missionary kids what these structures are all about.

Apparently, a Buddhist places this small house outside where a deceased male ancestor can reside. The family leaves the ancestor food and drink so that the spirit of the ancestor will not harm them and will watch over the house.

Between bites of breakfast, I wonder out loud: "Well, don't they see that the food has not been eaten?"

"Yes," my kids reply, "but the Buddhist claims the dead ancestor has eaten the 'spirit' of the food, extracting all flavor. So who would want to eat it?"

Onthe inside of a typical Cambodian home, another spirit house, this time wooden, is built into a wall bookcase. According to Buddhism, this tiny structure houses the spirit of the dead female ancestor who protects the occupants while inside their home. The family gives her food, too, so that no jealousy or anger crops up between the deceased male and female ancestors.

My daughter uses the space to store kids' books, and during Christmas, the manger scene, as you can see in this picture. I have to smile. What more fitting and striking contrast to Buddhist belief and superstition! Only the power of Jesus expressed through the Holy Spirit living within a believer can dispel fear and provide peace and protection (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).

The Cambodians employ one other spirit house, this one for a deceased child, five years old and under. The "house" is actually a small fruit-filled basket sometimes tied to a tree or post. The spirit of the deceased child watches over the living children of the home and plays with them.

Business owners also place spirit houses in their establishments. Later that day, we walk into a guesthouse lobby where we stay while touring the coastal town of Kampot. And sure enough, a spirit house rests against the stair railing.

In addition to spirit houses, Cambodians wear spirit strings for added protection. From birth, kids wear white strings on their wrists. If a child falls down, his mother will cry out to the spirit not to abandon her child, then she will retie the string so that the spirit will stay.

Adults wear red spirit strings. Police officers and soldiers wear strings around their bodies to ward off danger.

My heart is moved as I consider how deeply entrenched the Cambodians are in fear and superstition. How I pray they will see Jesus, believe in His death, burial, and resurrection on their behalf, and receive Him as Savior and Lord. Then they will become temples of the Holy Spirit. He will live inside of them! No longer will they be caught up in satan's deception and need to rely on the false protection of man-made spirit houses.

A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance

I was immediately intrigued when I learned of another OakTara author, Keith McDonald, who has written about the topic of sex trafficking. His compelling novel, A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance, is especially pertinent to me since my daughter, Stephanie, and husband, Matt, are training to minister to victims of the sex trade. Furthermore, Matt’s parents serve as missionaries in Cambodia, the setting for the story.

McDonald captured me from page one with his intricate and gentle description of Devi’s dance. He paints a picture of Cambodian village farm-life with richly meaningful and sweet family connections.

In stark contrast comes the fatal explosion only pages later that claims Devi’s hut, her father, and her dear Granny. On the prowl, Ban Rath, ruthless trafficker, is to blame. He wants beautiful Devi since she is prized as a Khmer dancer.

She and little brother, Rithy, now both orphaned, have no money and nowhere to go. Still, they flee to Tonle Sap Lake to escape Ban Rath. They long to reach Kompong Chhnang, home to the famous school of Khmer dance.

Enter reluctant Dr. Tom Whitby on route to Cambodia for six months to assist his father-in-law in treating iodine deficiency disorders at the urging of his wife, Jane.

MacDonald effectively builds tension and suspense as Devi and Rithy run for their lives. In the brother and sister interaction, he provides touches of humor and tugs at the heartstrings as the twosome scramble to survive.

I found my heart racing, caught up in the raw fear of their escape through the jungle while at the same time entering into their loving, protective bond as sister and brother. MacDonald keeps me on the edge of my seat with every twig snap and every new face. Is it Ban Rath?

A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance is a page turner that awakened me to the treacherous history of Cambodia, the tragic trade of human beings, and the brave individuals who risk their lives to rescue victims and transport them to safety.

I highly recommend this thrilling and informative read, for the issue of sex trafficking not only impacts Southeast Asia, but America as well.