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...

......................................................................................
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?