Here in Korea we have met people with a range of experience with Christianity. There are those who have heard "church," "Jesus," and "God," but to them they are simply words from a foreign land. Others have grown up hearing these names in their Protestant or Catholic faith. Still others have investigated Christianity, but because of a bad experience they have decided to pursue other avenues. Every soul is precious in God's eyes, and they are therefore precious to me. However, as one who remembers not knowing God or understanding that the Bible is His last will and testament, I have a special place in my heart for those who have either never heard or have never understood our heavenly Father and His love for us. Even still, I remember being shocked the first time I encountered someone who had never heard the name Jesus, and I do not mean the English pronunciation. They had never heard His name in their own language. Christianity was a completely foreign concept. The longer I lived in Cambodia, the more this reality became clear to me.
I remember the weight of this truth hitting me especially hard during an event we attended during our stint in the 'Kingdom of Wonder.' One of our Khmer friends and sister in Christ, Thida, had invited Bradley and me to join her at a cultural festival in Phnom Penh. I recall the strange sensation of walking into a performance theater after such a long time. It was so familiar and foreign at the same time. I have to admit that it felt a bit eerie to sit down for a performance in a country that only a generation back had slaughtered artists of any kind to prevent their people from thinking "outside the box." The lights dimmed, the curtain was drawn, and the performers took to the stage. Musicians, dancers, singers, and actors filled the room with colors and sounds that brought Khmer history to life. At one point I caught Thida's expression, and it was one of comfort and familiarity. This story was not new to her. The orange sashes, golden brocade dresses, red belts, and ornate crowns which were so exotic to me, were completely normal to her. She was at home. This foreign production was not foreign at all... I was. I was the alien.
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| Since we were not allowed to take photos during our performance, I borrowed these from online |
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| Their hands and fingers say so much, and their bodies move very little as they dance. |
Now, I had accepted that I was a foreigner long before this, but not until this moment did it really sink in that almost everything I had experienced in my life was completely different from what Thida and all of my Khmer friends knew and understood. Although we could relate in some ways, most of our foundational concepts were vastly different. The reason this suddenly seemed so apparent to me was because I had never before seen this particular expression on Thida's face. Even though she had taught me her language, culture, and previous Buddhist faith, most of our interactions up to that point usually involved me teaching her something about my culture, language, or faith. However, in this theater, she was 100% at home with her people; her language; her culture; her history. She was explaining things to me, and I could tell she was so proud. In this moment I realized how much we'd been asking this sweet woman to change for Christ. Sitting among her Buddhist friends, these changes meant that she was the odd one. Yet, she still did not quite fit in with us Americans either. My heart both sank and leapt for joy. Her choice was a difficult one, and yet she was doing her best to understand her Creator and what He had done for her. Before this point, I do not recall being impatient with my sister in Christ, but there were many times that I simply did not understand why she acted or reacted the way she did. Going forward though, I had a new-found respect for this independent woman who was trying to seek her heavenly Father, even though it meant building a totally different foundation than the one she had always known.
Empathy is an extremely valuable tool as a Christian, and although I am not an expert, I do my best to put myself in other people's shoes. It is always easier to have more patience and be better able to connect with someone if you have shared their experiences. On multiple occasions I had tried to step into my friend's shoes, but at this moment I realized my mistake: I did not need to step into her shoes; I simply needed to step out of mine. After all, out of respect, the Khmer people do not wear shoes inside. So, finally, I was able to slip out of my figurative shoes, and empathize with my "bare feet."
Imagine an independent, strong-willed two year old girl - I am sure this is not too difficult for most. Now, imagine this toddler losing her mother. Her 3 month old sister will never truly know their mother, and her own young memories will soon be too distant to recall. She now has to rely on her father, thankfully a tender man, and her slightly older sister and brother. This girl goes through school and grows into an independent, strong-willed young woman, all without the guidance of a mother. Then, at 17, she loses the one person she has been able to rely on her entire life. Her father passes away.
Thankfully, by God's grace, a caring older man and his wife took an interest in this young woman and her siblings. A Khmer-American brother, Savorn (pronounced "Sah-vaughn") and his wife, Bunho (pronounced "Bpune-hoh"), reached out to this family during their time of need. He has shared the love of Jesus through his words and actions, and I am grateful for his example. The kindness and love her own father had shown made it easier to trust and accept Savorn as her adopted father. Being wise to take time and count the cost, this young woman worked to understand the message Savorn brought. She began her journey into Christianity.
Then a group of American Christians moved into her neighborhood to help her learn more. They told her things she had never heard before, and they were so different from anything she knew. Her friends thought it was very strange. Her family appreciated that the Americans seemed nice, but they were not interested in Christianity for their lives. Sometimes these Americans even said and did things that no Khmer person would ever say or do because they know it would be rude or even wrong. Thankfully she was able to remember that they were foreigners. They did not understand that they were offending. Still, they do not realize how they are making things very difficult for her at times.
This realization has helped me tremendously in our work here in Korea, and in life in general. First, taking the time to get to know someone else's background is vital to truly connecting with them. As the saying goes, "no one cares how much you know until they know how much you care." Second, when confronted with a misunderstanding, give the benefit of the doubt rather than assuming the worst in the other person. Not only is it toxic for a relationship, it does nothing to help promote truth and understanding. Third, everyone grows in their own time. Just like a garden full of different produce, to plant, water, and prune exactly the same with people's hearts just will not work. God may always be the same, but people are not. I would never care for cilantro the same way I do tomatoes. Neither would I expect different plants to mature at the same time. These are just some of the lessons from which I have benefited, and I count myself blessed. This beautiful woman has helped me to grow as a Christian and individual, and I will be forever be a better person for having known her. Thank you Thida!
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| I am so proud to call you my friend! |
Here's to the first of many Khmemories!
Cheers!
