Confessions of a Cross-Cultural Prodigal

Do you feel the pain they bear...
Do you even care...

Sugarcoated Ways
Bleach



It wasnt long ago that Thailand was having political trouble which almost resulted to a civil war. It started in March and went on until this month of May. It was bout two weeks that the situation had escalated which resulted to extreme violence and bloodshed. It is not the intent of this post to talk about what happened, how it happened, and who were responsible. Instead i just want to write about its effect on me being in Thailand for almost seven years now. Thailand made big, disturbing, and painful news. And I, well I have never realized the depth of my attachment to this nation until all that had happened within the last two months. I have come to realize that Thailand has indeed become a second home... I followed the events closely. Visited the site where the demonstrators camped to do some prayer walks only to find out I was short of words to utter. I watched news on TV and read opinions on the internet... wanting to know what to pray for.

I have never been so interested in politics as i have a very limited understanding of it. But Thailand was under severe trial and as an expat who's been trying to learn to speak, read and write the language, understand the culture and adapt those which i think are appropriate or at least I am able to adapt, i knew i had to be aware. I wanted to be relevant... to be able to sympathize with my Thai friends. To let them know I was one with them in their confusions and fear...

That was what was surprising... how subconsciuosly, Thailand has become so much a part of me somehow. Doesnt matter if traffic is so bad and weather too hot almost all year round. [Ok, I'd be such a hypocrite to say that they dont matter... they do matter. But somehow, I am willing to ignore these discomforts if only to keep glued to the task... so help me God.] Cos at the end of the day, i know that at this point of time, I am where i am supposed to be...

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Then yesterday was a Buddhist holiday they call the Visaka Bucha which simultaneously commemorates three important anniversaries in the life of Siddharta Gautama, the Buddha: his birth, his attainment of enlightenment, and his death. As I passed through a temple going home, I saw people at the temple grounds... some offering flowers and incense, some listening to a monk's sermon, and others circling around the main temple for three times.

Then it hit me... how common such religious scene has become to me. Being here for years, everything... sights and sound... has become very ordinary. Passing through a Buddhist temple or Islamic mosques is like passing through a market or mall. Like nothing surprises, amazes or affects me anymore. Like I dont anymore feel the same concern that I have for these people as when I first got here. Numb and uncaring became me... Gone were the days when each visit to a temple or mosque would lead to a whisper of prayer for the people I see. After all, there came a point in my stay here when I myself seemed to have needed the same mercies and compassion like they do. [Of course, I still need God's mercies and compassion, along with all His other attributes everyday.. who doesnt?]

But God's heart for the nations... for every tribe and tongue, remains the same. That the prodigal [like I was] would come home. That the lost sheeps and the lost coins be found. That God's Kingdom would rule and reign in the hearts of men... in the hearts of the Thais. And we, the supposed light and salt, have our parts in this. But we know that already... dont we?

Devastation and Reform

Fear can drive stick
And it's taking me down this road
A road down which I swore I'd never go
And here I sit thinking of God knows what
Afraid to admit I might self-destruct...

Devastation and Reform
Relient K

This is one blog that is actually inspired by a song, the song that was quoted for this article. Normally, I would just write about an idea and then an appropriate song that I can associate it with just comes next. But the song (actually more of like the song title) speaks of common experiences of many believers so I thought of using it as an idea for a blog...

And as I was thinking on what to write about, the word “gremlin” came to mind. Then the movie. It’s about a cute, tiny creature that can become some sort of a midget but mischievous monster when fed after midnight. And it multiplies if it gets wet.

I know a lot of believers whose spiritual growth is almost exponential. Such are some of my friends, people who I work with in the campuses and the sanctuary many years ago. I envy those people. I wish I was like them.

And I also know believers whose growth has been like a wavelength that oscillates up and down, up and down, and up and down again. I am amongst this second group. Tarnished. Wounded. Defeated many times.

How does one hit the bottom? Why do some of us start out like a a mighty oak only to snap like a little twig? Why cant we be like the ones whose growth is almost exponential?

The answers are many and simple. The Book calls them the weeds, the rocky soil, the thorns, the cravings of the carnal nature, the self-destructing pride… the list could go on. These are the big and little imperfections in us that can serve as gremlins, mischievous and dangerous, destroying the spirit and soul of a man. The human nature wages war against the spiritual nature. It’s waiting to be fed. Waiting to plunge itself into the river of worldliness. Waiting to take over and cause destruction to the redeemed, sanctified soul.

So how do we get rid of these gremlins? How are the devilish gremlins in the movie conquered?… by exposing them to light. The gremlins freaks out when they are exposed to light. They can only thrive in dark places.

That’s right… the Light. Light dissipates darkness. Light can scare our demons away. Of course we know who the Light is... The Light of our Salvation.

No matter how devastated we think we are, there is reformation. God in his infinite mercy is always willing to take the prodigal back. Like an eager father waiting for the return of his wayward son. All it takes is a decision to cross-over. Sometimes it’s not easy. Sometimes we feel like we have gone too far to return. But it’s possible. And when it happens, we cant really fully explain how. Maybe we are simply the chosen. Predestined to be in a relatiponship with the Father. I think it’s what they call “grace.” Some undeserved love from a compassionate God.