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?

Unsung Heroes

Have you ever played the martyr
Only for the reason of a prize
Can we ever give up trying
To be something in another's eyes

We're so selfish, self seeking
We're so desperate to be number one
So unworthy of what's given
What are we doing here... unnoticed

unnoticed
plumb

Unnoticed… that's what some of us are. We interact with various people everyday and many of them don’t even get the chance to know what difference has God made in our lives. Like we're just another face in the crowd... Im not judging anyone. I have been passing through life unnoticed for quite a while…

I remember my mentors, who inspired me to write this blog...

I remember a British man who took me to the mountains of the northern Philippines, introduced me to a people who were "reached" beyond the mountains because of the willingness of disciples like him to leave the comforts of the west to go the tribal peoples of the east. We had to walk up to the mountains for about 3 hours before reaching the villages. He taught me how to spot drinkable water from among the brooks. That was where I got to taste the most delicious water that I’ve ever drank. And that is no exaggeration. I can still almost remember how it tasted. I was like 19 then. His name is John.

I could still remember an American man and his family in north Thailand. He was instrumental in taking me to the highest places in Chiang Mai, ministered to the different "northern hilltribes" as they are collectively called, and the Burmese refugees in the mountain borders. I remember him inviting me to his house to celebrate my birthday with his family when I was almost alone doing my cross-cultural internship. His name is Craig.

Then there was this Filipino man whose passion was to reach the folk muslims in the south islands of the Philippines. He took us on an exposure trip, to have us experience an on-site taste on how it’s like to be with them, even just for a week. For the purpose of giving us awareness of a world different from our own. We had a water worship where we sang praises in the sea as a symbol of letting the sea waters conduct our worship to the connecting islands. I didn’t get the symbolism. I found it too charismatic. Too Pentecostal. Except that during our singing and celebration, little fishes gathered around us we could even scoop them with our hands. To this day, I still don’t get the message why God let us experience that. I didn’t see any miraculous significance. But it sure was amazing. It surely was supernatural… His name is Lut.

Then this recent mentor of mine. White skinned like my two other mentors. One of the pioneers of the work in the south of this country, among the descendants of Ishmael. He encourages me even without saying a word. Seriously. He doesn’t have to teach me or exhort when we meet. His life is more than enough to shame me of my complacency. Of my lack of passion and zeal to pursue the call… the call of letting Ishmael’s sons know that from the lineage of Isaac came the Masih… [Arabic for ] the Messiah. His name is… sorry not this one.



There are many more… Unsung Heroes. You wont see them speaking in big crusades or leading multitudes in worship or selling a million copies of their latest books or newly released CD… They wont be getting any prestigious award like the Noble prize anytime soon... They might not be getting any acknowledgement from any religious, social, or political clubs and organizations. Some of them i got to meet durin the conference i just attended. And im sure I’ll get to meet a few more along the way… Unsung heroes. Working where only the Sender sees. Whose reward is yet to come... When the Father says "welcome my faithful servant and fearless soldier."

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this blog is especially dedicated to a man named Dough, a mentor, an inspiration, and who i love like an older brother...

Beautiful Strangers

won’t you tell me now
when did i see you in need of water?
oh, and tell me now
when did i see you hungry on the street?

God, i hear you calling out to me
in the voices of the least of these
calling me to reach beyond my world
to the beautiful stranger...

"beautiful stranger"
rebecca st. james

Sometimes we are so caught up in our own world that we tend to forget that there is a world outside our own.

Sometimes we think that the world our own private world is perfect on its own that we dont seem to care about the imperfect world around us.

About people who think differently from our way of thinking. Who live differently from the way we live our lives. Whose manners might not seem to be as refined as ours. Or who might not seem to be as logical and rational as we are. Whose culture seem to be a bit off track, laid back or even outdated. Who worship a diety who is in no way comparable to the God we worship...

And this is my point, really. Most culture are shaped by the kind of faith they have. culture and religion are most of the time so intertwined that we cannot sometimes tell one from the other. A certain people can be so laid back but that's because they have been taught to walk the middle path. To not go to both extremes of apathy and arrogance. Then there are those who appear to be so culturally militant and that's because they have been raised to be radical for their faith to the point of going to extremes.

And then there's us. A people who know who they believe and follow. We have been taught to be wise like a serpent and meek like a dove. We have been taught to be passionate about our faith then also share it in humility and meekness. To walk the extra mile if asked. To turn the other cheek if needed to. To feed the hungry. And clothe the naked. And comfort those who mourn. To show kindness and compassion and sacrificial love to those who think such virtues don’t exist. To be compelled by the love of the Almighty. Cause only by then can they know the difference. Between the lotus and the cross. Or the crescent and the cross.

There's us. wonderfully and fearfully made. Chosen. And there's them. Lost. Careless. But still beautiful in God's eyes.

There's us. Set apart… Yet being sent to them... Yes, to them. Beautiful strangers.

Are we gonna heed the call?

Yeah, Seriously...What If?

give me your eyes for just one second
give me your eyes so i can see
everything that I keep missing
give me your love for humanity…

give me your hands for the broken-hearted
the ones that are far beyond my reach
give me your heart for the ones forgotten
give me your eyes so i can see

“give me your eyes"
brandon heath

Seriously. What if God would indeed lend us his eyes for just a second? What do you think would he show us? What would each one of us expect God to show us?

His glory? His glorious presence? It would indeed be more than awesome to even just have a glimpse of his radiant glory. To experience what Paul himself experienced when he was taken up to the third heaven. After all, it is God’s utmost desire to reveal his holy presence, the fullness of his glory, to all his creation. That everyone would bow down to his Majesty. Ah, the glory of God. It is everyone’s desire to have even just a glimpse of it…

Or how about a true picture of hell? How it’s like down there. Would it make us more zealous and passionate to be a witness of his salvation once we have a brief experience of the pit? If I remember it right, the founder of the Salvation Army once said that he wished that everyone in his congregation would have a vision of what hell is, so that they would be more radical for their Lord and be more passionate to witness for him…

Or maybe the end times. You know, the End of Days and the Armageddon… those kind of stuff. What it’s like when the so-called end of the world comes. What would happen during the so-called seven-year Tribulation. And the judgment day. Who really is the anti-christ? (Ouch, it hurts my teeth even just to say that.) To have a clearer picture of what John has vaguely(?) described in the book of Revelations. Doomsday preachers would so love to see all these…

Or would God give us a tour to the unfinished task? To the unreached peoples of the world… The tribes, and tongues, and peoples, and nations, who are yet to hear the message of God’s redemptive plan. People offering food and incense to a monk or some form of deity to make merit and receive blessing. People making pilgrimage to so-called sacred places, to attain some form holiness, purification, enlightenment, or even salvation.

But really… Does God really have to lend us his eyes for us to see the hungry, the hurting, the heart-broken, and the hell-bound? We see them everyday… We pass by them. Or they pass us by. We interact with them. We see them on the morning papers. We see them on the evening news. We see them… with our own naked eyes.

So then, if God would give us his eyes for just one second… or a minute, what do you think would he show us?

Compassion

There’s a God – shaped hole in all of us
And the restless soul is searching...
There’s a God – shaped hole in all of us
And it’s a void only He can fill…

“God – shaped hole”
Plumb


Not so long ago, a friend of mine asked me to go with him to pick up a dog from his friend. Actually, he just asked me to go with him because he didn’t know the way on how to get there. He’s a Thai... he has a car... he’s been in Bangkok for almost 20 years, but I know better how to get around the metropolis than he does. How weird is that?

His friend, whose name i didn’t have the chance to get, was giving the dog away. And even if I am not a big fan of these canine creatures, I could tell that the dog was an expensive breed. And the reason he was giving it away was because he (the friend) has been sick for more than a half a year and he couldn’t take care of the dog anymore.

Anyway, once we got there, what I saw was not a pitiful dog although he (the canine) seemed a little malnourished, but a guy who is more malnourished than his dog. Almost by instinct, I did my ocular evaluation of the sick person, just like the first thing that we do when a patient comes to see us for treatment…

A young adult, 23 – 25 years old, abnormally ectomorphic, significantly deconditioned… body is bent forward, gait is slow and forced, dry, course hair, tropic changes on his face mostly on his nose bridge and cheeks, teeth stained due to forgotten hygiene. Diagnosis is unknown cause neither my friend nor the mother could explain it (in English, that is). What a pitiful sight of a man who my friend said used to be a smart young man. He was on his way to finishing his bachelor’s degree in Culinary Arts or something. And now he has become a sick person who exerts so much effort even just to move around.

My spirit was struck with compassion. Compassion for a stranger who i got the chance to meet just because my friend asked me to go with him. Compassion because there’s nobody else in his family but he and his mother. I know I could help in a small way… give him assistive exercises to regain some strength, help him improve his gait and posture, pulmonary exercises to facilitate more normal breathing, and help him improve his overall ADL (activities of daily living)… Boy! im a genius! And that wouldn’t even cost me anything… just some time and a few bucks to get to his place.

I really wished I could extend some help but I didn’t know how. I told my friend to get the diagnosis so I can form a Physical Therapy treatment plan for the sick young man. He didnt take me seriously.

To this day, i still remember the sight of the poor guy. I asked my friend about him once. It seemed that they have moved to a cheaper place to stay.

But this was what really enveloped me… the fact that there are more people out there suffering from broken, crashed, and amputated spirits. Sickness… Poverty… Fragmented families… Broken hearts… Fractured lives…

Who can help these people who are raised in a culture and belief which teaches them “to be a man unto yourself?” Each person’s present situation, either good or bad, pleasant or painful, is a product of his actions, either from his previous life or his present existence. That’s his “karma.” You shouldnt intervene. Get your hands off him so he can pay his dues already… So he can have a better life in his next incarnation... karma sucks! Seriously...

Point is, there's a multitude of people out there who need the compassion of God in action. It’s just such a shame (even to me!) that not too many of the redeemed are willing to be God’s hands and feet. Some are even busy preaching fire when all these people need is just a bucket of cold water… or pizza.