Crossing an Indiana Jones-Type Bridge

In three days, I feel like my life has already changed to the point of no return. Of course, I'm an overdramatic person, but I really am praying that these things I've been learning about myself and Jesus on this trip are long-lasting and, really, life changing.

Today was our first official team stop in partnership with Vision for Cambodia. We visited a prison just outside of Battambang where our translator's mother (Pastor Long Sokim) headed up a prison ministry. We sat through five or six worship songs in Khmer (pronounced "k•mai"), three or four testimonies, a sermon from Brian, and a sermon from Pastor Long Sokim, and then passed out the food and medical supplies Vision for Cambodia had requested us bring. In short, it was a lot of sitting and listening and not understanding. Some of our team got restless and really wanted to just DO something, while others checked out or observed the baby with impeccable motor skills sitting in front of us scoop rice all over his face. The entire time, our team sat in chairs in a neat little row while 50+ prisoners (men, women, and children) sat on bright green tarp on the ground in their bright purple prison outfits. It felt a little like we were being paraded like circus animals, but it seemed the prisoners took a genuine interest in all of us.

After the prison, we got to visit Pastor Timothy's house - a typical Cambodian house church in a village right outside Battambang. The place was humble, to say the least, with about only 500 square feet of room for an entire congregation. When I saw the area, my first thought was, "Do they expect me to take my shoes off?" and then, "Where the heck do people sit during service?"

((I realize this would have a lot better context with pictures, but since I didn't bring any devices that could capture and instantly upload with me, hopefully my words can paint a really fuzzy picture for now))

In the afternoon, we ran our first children's ministry at a small village half an hour's drive from Battambang while Brian spoke to the congregation. It was at this small village filled with wooden huts on stilts and unpaved roads and chickens and cows and dogs running around that I think I began my journey in understanding what perspective means. Right as we were ending our planned activities, it started to pour cats and dogs - it literally sounded like someone was banging the toms on the tent above us that was already leaking gallons of water through the holes in the side. During one of the games at the end, a little girl maybe 8 or so came to stand at my side and then slowly inched her way into my arms. She cautiously placed her little hand in mine, and, without thinking, I gripped hers back. With that, I was instantly attached to that little girl. She wouldn't let go of my hand until we literally got separated by a blockade of chairs, and then found me again on the other side and grasped my hands with both of hers, hugging it tightly to her chest. Honestly, it felt pretty darn nice to be so simply loved by a little girl who just met me and knew nothing about me other than the fact that I was a loud leader and maniacal dancer.

Then the rules we had established as a team popped into my head: Don't hug or touch the kids. I was suddenly extremely conscious of the little girl looking up at me just wanting me to love her back, and of the fact that another little girl had found my hand with hers, and was also clinging on as if I were her mother. Upon such a realization, I turned to Victor and asked, "I'm breaking all the rules with this, huh?" He nodded and sadly told me it would be best if I could detach myself from them and not let it happen anymore.

Thinking it over, I realized that my giving such temporary and misunderstood affection for them would only deter them from truly connecting with someone who could invest in their lives and growth. By trying to make them feel good with my extremely short time spent giving them attention, I was playing into my own ego and desire to feel needed as well. Back at our hotel, Victor had a good talk with me where he challenged me to start seeing things from a different perspective, with different understandings. I had come to Cambodia hoping to learn and observe and understand the people and their culture, thinking I could do so by pretending to be as not tourist-y and not American as possible, but never thought about how that mindset, and the mindset of needing to serve and not be served was just a way to play into my own pride of feeling useful and needed. The fact that I was uncomfortable with being treated like a royal guest was just proof that maybe, subconsciously, I didn't think they were at a level where I could accept their service and lavish love. My mindset for the whole trip has really changed, and my understanding of how to be an honored guest with the right attitude has really altered, too. I'm reminded of the widow that Jesus noticed as she was putting her two copper coins into the offering box and can see that Jesus would have said the same of the prisoners and village church we visited today. I can't help but think Jesus would have referred to me today as He did the Pharisees that day, too. I, who have everything I could ever need and want, think that I could do so much or offer so much with my 10% tithe and short term missions trips to Cambodia, while I'm doing it to feel good and maybe even be noticed. But these people gave out of their poverty and because they genuinely and simply want to love us and treat us as the honored guests we are. And not only do I not accept, I make them out to be poorer than they are in believing that they can't possibly serve someone like me? Jesus would have been shaking His head at me the way He shook His head at the Pharisees who scorned the woman's two copper coins.

Today, I truly began learning about what perspective means - to see things not as Western culture sees, not as I see, not even as Cambodian culture sees, but as Jesus sees. Sitting at that prison was not just a time of sitting, then, but a time of receiving what the prisoners had to offer. Seeing Pastor Timothy's house was not just a time to observe how much more money he needs to finish the roof of his expanded walls, but a time to marvel at how God was using the Cambodian people to bless the Cambodian people. And letting go of that little girl's hand was more than simply letting go of a little girl's hand - it was letting go of my pride, personal agenda, and rose-colored glasses to see the world, and allowing Jesus to really give me His vision for Cambodia

in His grace,
Vicky Lin