2.  You can’t get over the conveniences of drinkable tap water, washers and dryers, hot showers.

3.  You still frequently think and dream in Thai.

4.  You feel strangely isolated knowing that no one around you would understand you if you spoke in Thai.

5.  You feel confused about simple things like telephone etiquette and tipping.

6.  You get unnaturally gleeful over a plate of rice.

7.  Certain worship songs you knew in both Thai and English are now more familiar in Thai.

8.  You think about people back in Thailand a LOT.

9.  You cringe and try hard not to judge people whenever food is thrown away.

10.  You try hard not to judge people about a lot of things.

11.  You feel guilty, somehow, for leaving.

12.  You feel more poor in America than you did living in a slum in Thailand.

13.  You don’t recognize a single song on the radio.

14.  You’re back on season 2 of Lost.

15.  You don’t get fazed a bit by L.A. traffic.

16.  You still calculate prices into baht.

17.  You realize one day how nice it is not have any mosquito, ant, or cockroach bites.

18.  It seems like everyone around you is always SO BUSY.

19.  You find yourself forgetting that certain topics are taboo here that you’re used to being open about.

20.  You feel like you knew who you were in Thailand, but have to figure out who you are now in America.

21.  You realize you’ve adapted Thai values that people around you don’t necessarily have.

22.  You assume that, like Thais, your friends often have a hidden meaning to what they say, when they usually don’t.

23.  You feel like you have to start over from scratch in every area of your life.

24.  You realize you aged during your time overseas, and haven’t returned to a former age as well as a former country.

This morning I have the opportunity to share about my five years in Thailand, and the great challenge of condensing it into 20 minutes.  Let’s see, that would be about four minutes per year, less than 30 seconds per month….  No, don’t worry, I won’t try to do that.  I’ll just give some highlights, some snapshots into what God was doing that I got to be a part of.

For people who aren’t familiar with what I’ve been up to:  in October I returned from five years of living and serving in the slums of Bangkok, Thailand.  My team and I worked alongside local Thai church leaders to reach out to the poor in that city.   Our vision was to see God’s Kingdom coming to the slums.  What that meant to us was not just spiritual salvation, but healing and justice and things made right in all of the brokenness in those slums.  So we worked with people in the communities to address their felt needs, to become empowered to work for change, as well as sharing verbally about Jesus to those who were interested.  We partnered with a Thai foundation to minister to tangible needs in the slums.  And ultimately we wanted to see churches planted, led by Thais in Thai ways, that reached out holistically to its neighbors, and reproduced to other communities.  Later I’ll give some examples of how we did those things.

When I found out that today the church celebrates epiphany, I thought that was really cool timing.  Because in the last few months I was in Thailand I watched my slum community have its own epiphany.  The meaning of this word in Greek is similar to “manifestation” or “revelation”.  We say things like “I had an epiphany!” often to mean we figured something out, had a flash of insight.  But the Biblical epiphany means God making himself known to man.  His initiative, not ours.  God coming to live among us, rather than us figuring out how to get to God.  Jesus was born into our world, born into each of our hearts, born into that slum in Bangkok.  I was there in Thailand as a missionary, but really it was God doing the work, drawing people to himself.  I just got to be along for the ride.

At epiphany we often reflect on the magi, or wise men, and their journey to Bethlehem.  The passage I chose from Colossians captures beautifully what it is that these magi discovered, what it is that my neighbors experienced and that I got to experience anew as I saw their child-like wonder of new faith.

(Colossians 1:15-23) He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. And you who were once estranged and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death, so as to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him— provided that you continue securely established and steadfast in the faith, without shifting from the hope promised by the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven. I, Paul, became a servant of this gospel.

There is so much packed into this passage.  It’s rich with meaning and symbolism.  I’m going to just touch on two themes and how I experienced this in Bangkok.  The first is this idea of Jesus being the “fullness of God”, which was “pleased” to dwell in Jesus, to dwell in our flesh and walk our earth.  This is an incredible thought!  Look at who Paul says this is—the “image of God”, the creator of everything, the one who holds all things together.  This is who came to live among us as our friend.

The magi saw the sign of the star, and even though they were not Jews, they still sought out Jesus.  These were dignified astrologers, and yet when they discovered Jesus, this small, vulnerable child, they fell down and worshipped.  It’s quite the scene to picture!  One might imagine them coming to see Jesus and being less than impressed—I mean, he’s just a child, and born in a barn, to an unwed mother…  But instead, they clearly experienced something about Jesus that caused them to realize this is no ordinary child.  And he wasn’t—he was all of God’s fullness, made flesh and blood.  And for me, the fact that he did choose to be born in such humble conditions, rather than in a palace among the rich and powerful, causes me to worship him more, not less.  Jesus was, and is, pleased to dwell among the ordinary, the poor, the weak.

This kind of seeking, and then having an experience with Jesus, is often how Thais come to believe.  Most Thais worship a variety of gods and idols, and those who have begun worshipping Jesus often talk about how different an experience it is.  They talk about how they feel that God, rather than their idols, is alive, how they feel like Jesus is right beside them as a friend.  While Buddhist spirituality has some positive benefits in the lives of its followers, it lacks a love relationship with God.  In Jesus, they discover a living God pleased to dwell among them.

This first picture is of a typical Buddhist temple, and the second is at one of our combined worship services.  These are three believers from a slum community doing a traditional Thai dance in worship.

In the first slum community I lived in, I led a Bible study with some teenagers (in the picture above) who wanted to know more about Jesus.  Early on, they asked if we could learn about the birth of Jesus.  We talked about who his parents were, where he was born, who his first visitors were at the manger.  And I asked them, “if Jesus were born today in Bangkok, where do you think he would be born?”  And they answered, “here in one of our slums.”  His first visitors, rather than shepherds, would have been rice farmers like their own family members.  The magi would have been the city’s elite, but rather than coming in as experts or patrons, they would have knelt to the ground.

This was really an incredible story to them, because in their Buddhist society, the rich and powerful were seen as the “good” people, since they must be full of good karma.  But the poor were poor because of their bad karma, from this life or previous lives.  But here is Jesus being born among them, replacing shame and lies with hope and new identity.

Three of these girls became followers of Jesus, and though the fourth didn’t officially make that decision while I was there, she was so captured by Jesus that she read through the entire Bible and sought after him more than many Christians I know.

This incarnation, this “fullness of God” that is “pleased to dwell” among us, is why we ministered by living among the poor in Bangkok.  We want to bring God’s love and his healing into those communities, rather than just inviting people to come to church in another part of the city.  Church is his body of believers, anyway, rather than a building.  We tried to take on as much of their lifestyle as we could, honor them through learning from them, and break down some of the barriers that naturally exist between us.  Soon they stop seeing us as just “western” or “wealthy”, but as fellow human beings seeking similar things.

Below is a picture of my bedroom and also a view down one of the three lanes in my community.

These are more pictures from my house.  Here I’m making Thai food with my friend Yut, and the second is a picture of children singing from worship books on our front porch.

These are pictures from the first slum I lived in that has actually been evicted now.

We have church in homes right within the slum.  People feel the most comfortable dropping by to experience worship, and more likely to join in as we sing songs using their instruments, in the style that they most resonate with.  Buddhists are used to having to go to the temple in order to “make merit”, and many are thrilled that they can worship and pray wherever they are.

This is another picture of what worship looks like.  This was the church that started in my house in those last few months I was there.  In that community there were no believers when we moved in, but after a long investment in relationships and trying to show God’s love through our actions as well as words, 6 people became believers within 2 weeks.  So we started this weekly gathering for worship, studying the Word, praying together.

We always start with a Thai meal, sharing from communal bowls of hot curry or stir-frys, eating everything over lots of rice, of course.

We also try to follow Jesus’ example of caring for the whole person in all of their needs.  We work with people to identify what they feel are the most pressing issues in their communities, help them to develop as leaders and work together to find solutions, rather than always depending on outsiders.  In my community they were most concerned about the children, particularly that they weren’t being supervised well and had nowhere safe to play.  So these are a couple pictures of events they planned and led together that were both fun and educational, and really helped the kids feel loved by the adults in that community.  Events like this helped the adults have hope that they could work together to bring about change, and that they didn’t have to stay isolated or fatalistic.  This is one of the least visible but most destructive effects of poverty: it steals people’s dignity, the identity God gave them when he created them and said “it is very good”.  But when we help people to begin to dream, to plan, to act, then some of this damage falls away.  Eventually they plan bigger actions, try to get at the root of the issues they face in their slums.  They can then seek outside resources and help instead of just waiting for someone to offer it.  They are more empowered to partner with those who can bring lasting change instead of feeling at the whims of those in power.

Below is a picture of my good friend Yut, the very first believer in the second community I lived in.  I’d like to share her story to illustrate the second theme that stood out to me from today’s passage.

At epiphany we often think of the magi making their journey, and then about the three gifts they gave Jesus.  But the greatest gift in that story is Jesus himself.  In the passage in Colossians it says that through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. And that because of this, we are now holy and blameless and irreproachable.  This is an amazing gift—God is making all things new!  He is reconciling, healing, the things in this world that are broken, such as poverty.  He is reuniting us with himself, and with the identity he gave us when he created us.  Gifts that we give, that the magi gave, are in response to this greatest of gifts, rather than attempts to earn it.  They are simply signs that we are giving our worship, our loyalty, our hearts, to God, which is what he really wants.

This was very good news to the poor in Bangkok.  Buddhists in Thailand, most of them, believe their gods DO need their offerings.  They believe they must work their way to a better next life, they must appease the spirits so they will be blessed rather than cursed.  The poor often feel their poverty is a curse because of their bad karma, so they try to make more merit.  This is often done through monetary offerings, which they just don’t have.  So they feel stuck in their poverty, aware of their sin but unable to cleanse it on their own.  Many of them just accept poverty as their fate, and give up trying to make their lives or their communities better.

When my friend Yut began really seeking after Jesus, it was largely because her attempts to buy the favors of her gods had failed.  She told us, “I’ve been a good Buddhist my whole life.   I’ve made merit, gone to the temple, but none of it is working.”  Her family was on the brink of falling apart, she had lost a job and they were in serious debt.  She felt at the end of herself.  But when she heard that Jesus wanted to make his home in her, that he offers her grace and freedom from the law of karma, and that she doesn’t have to (and can’t) pay him back or earn it somehow, that was such good news.  Like the magi, her journey took her awhile.  After investing months into our friendship, many hours talking through her questions about Jesus, she was finally ready to commit her life to him.  On the day she made the decision, she said, “even if I don’t see God do amazing miracles in my life, just knowing that I’m his daughter, that I’m not alone—that is enough.”

This picture is of Yut receiving her first Bible.  We threw a party for her shortly after she committed her life to Jesus, and she was so thrilled to receive that Bible.  She practically grabbed it out of our hands.  The other woman in this picture, one of Yut’s friends, also became a believer that night because of Yut’s testimony.  As we met with them later, both of these women talked endlessly about how much peace they had received, how they were no longer afraid of spirits or death, how they would wake up at night feeling like Jesus was right next to them, inviting them to talk to him.  It was amazing.  Instead of an identity based on karma, they are now “holy and blameless and irreproachable”.  They are daughters of the King of kings, this fullness of God who dwells among them.  Instead of giving offerings to nameless, frightful gods, they are now worshipping a God of love.  One day as church was getting started, Yut turned to me and whispered, “do you know what I would do if Jesus were right here in this room?  I would throw my arms around him.”

This amazing gift of Jesus among us, come to reconcile all things and bring new hope, inspires people to give in return.  This is why the magi gave gifts—because the gift of Jesus is worthy of everything we have.  It is why Yut shared the Gospel so freely with others, leading this neighbor, her sister and her husband (just last month) to Christ.  It is why she gives away bags of rice to those needier than her in the community, why she has recently fought successfully to give up her gambling addiction and truly care for her children.  It’s why Thai believers we work with lead house churches as volunteers, help run a scholarship program for youth from the slums, help a community being evicted save together and relocate to a new plot of land.  When people receive this gift, this hope of Jesus’ reconciling work, they give their lives in response.  And the Kingdom in all its dimensions begins to take shape.

For me, after watching this epiphany take place in slum communities in Bangkok, I’m hooked.  I feel like it is such a privilege to be a part of this healing work Jesus is doing.  I’m going to continue to work with Servant Partners in their L.A. office, as well as move into a low-income community there and see how God would use me to reach out to my neighbors.

The original epiphany happened over 2,000 years ago, but Jesus continues to take on our flesh and blood to make himself known.  He is pleased to dwell among us, and pleased to use us as his hands and feet, to be his church inside this building and outside.  In this new year, may we experience this Christ within us in a new way, and offer this gift to others with greater boldness and love.  Amen.

photo credit: prakhar

“Don’t listen to him, this is your decision.  Do what YOU want to do.  If he really loved you he’d love you enough to let you follow your own heart.”

“(enter name of product here)- for whenever the urge strikes.”

“It’s up to you, you have to choose your own path in life.  I will support whatever decision you make.”

“Go ahead, pamper yourself– you deserve it.”

These aren’t direct quotes from anything, but doesn’t it sound familiar?  I keep hearing things like this on TV dramas, commercials, daily conversation, and they seem to go unquestioned.  The values of being true to yourself and independent have some positive elements.  But there seems to be a widely-held ideal that we are only responsible to ourselves, we should listen to and obey every urge or desire we feel, and we should not pay too much attention to requests or desires of others or we may lose ourselves, not be “true to our hearts.”

Obviously, I’m exaggerating and generalizing some.  But not a whole lot.

On the other end of the spectrum is Thailand.  (No, literally– I saw a spectrum recently that put America and Thailand on opposite ends of the individualism/collectivism spectrum).  I think that if Thais were to make a list and rank who they believed they are responsible for and to, they would put themselves quite a ways down the list.  Family would be number one, followed by the king (though those two might be switched).  Friends, neighbors, patrons would make the list.  They would likely mention their ancestors, their country and culture, Buddha and the idols they worship.

photo credit: munir

In making decisions, it is rare to hear a Thai talk about what they want to do or their “gut instinct”.  Instead they try to balance the effect of the decision on important people in their lives.  There is a word in Thai that we don’t have in English except as a phrase: “grengjai”, or “to be afraid of imposing on someone.”  I think it’s one of the most commonly-used words in their language:

“I wanted to, but I was grengjai”

“No, please, you don’t have to be grengjai.”

“How rude– he wasn’t grengjai at all.”

At first glance this can seem much more gracious, much less selfish than the extreme our culture often goes.  But in the extreme, this aspect of collectivism can be pretty ugly, too.  People really can lose themselves and their boundaries.  Relationships stay surface-level because people don’t want to do the uncomfortable work of conflict and reconciliation.  Bitterness grows as people constantly stuff down what they want for what they feel they “should” do.  Unhealthy compromises are made and abuses suffered.  One person is treated unfairly in favor of another of higher status or closer connection.

Having now lived and adapted to both cultures, I find myself trying to reconcile these extremes.  What in each of these worldviews needs to be redeemed?  What is from God?

So what I’ve come up with is that the most important thing is that we are responsible to God, first and foremost.  Otherwise I become my own god, or people around me become gods.

Jesus does teach us to lay down our lives for others, which is something we Americans could learn a bit about from Thais.  But if this is not as a submitted act of worship to him, it becomes idolatry or moralistic duty.

God also tells us that if we are believers we have the Spirit inside us to guide us, and that sometimes, in obedience to him, we have to do things that are offensive to others.  This comes more naturally to us in the West than those in the East.  But without submission to that Spirit within us, we follow our own broken, diseased, selfish hearts and become our own gods, justifying the destruction we leave in our wake.

It seems to me that from Scripture, the correct hierarchy of responsibility should be first to God, then to others, and finally to ourselves.  After all, we are supposed to think of others as greater than ourselves.  But sometimes we must be like Mary, sitting at Jesus’ feet rather than helping her sister with the meal preparation, or like Paul, confronting those in authority.  How we relate to others and to our own desires must be submitted to God.

This challenges me to be more in prayer.  Because the Thai side of me pulls me in one direction (defer to others, don’t assert yourself too much, figure out what will keep the peace) and the American side pulls me the other (listen to yourself, ignore what others think, go your own way).  But when I’m most connected to God I sense that he is guiding me, and I can be counter-cultural, responsible to him, governed by love.  And he is a much better guide than myself or my perception of those around me.

friends from the market I frequent, the day before I left for the States

I have at least a couple blog posts backlogged in my mind about things that happened in my last few months in Bangkok.  But first I thought I’d jot down some of the random things swirling around in the front of my mind as I transition back to life in America.

This time, unlike my visit half way through my term, the change feels less shocking.  I think memories of that first reverse culture shock have helped me to be less surprised.  But still, this is a big change.

I was often over-stimulated in Bangkok, being the crazy, noisy, city full of contradictions that never sleeps or slows down that it is.  But somehow I often feel over-stimulated here in small-town Oregon, too.  In stores, I can’t just scan over items anymore– every product and label is unfamiliar or at least something I haven’t looked at in years.  I forget what items are common and what aren’t (where are the long rows of soy sauce?  single-serving soy milk?  pepsi max?  nescafe packets?)  I don’t know what things are supposed to cost.  And there’s just things for sale now I’ve never heard of (enhanced water??).

Other times, I’m struck by the vacuum of sound.  The only time I was ever in a silent environment in Bangkok was on a relatively quiet night with my earplugs in.  This is something I longed for there, and don’t get me wrong– it’s nice.  But sometimes it can seem a little, I don’t know, creepy.

It’s also weird to live in such an isolated bubble from my neighbors.  The people I see or even who come to our house are connected to us in some way other than geographical, for the most part.  It’s strange to leave the neighborhood and come back without greeting people, having a couple little kids grab my hands and walk me home, buying some fried snack being sold by a neighbor along the way.  I miss that.  The independent side of me (and it is a well-developed side) likes the privacy and freedom of this lifestyle, but also feels the loss of that kind of community I’d lived in for five years.

I’m always cold.  Except when I’m in my bedroom with the space heater on high and many layers of clothes on.

I never have a sense of what time of day it is because it’s so dark all day long.  Ah, Oregon, I love your beautiful hillsides and colorful leaves, but you sure can be gloomy most of the time.

Everything is easier about life here.  Hard to believe I got so used to 20 minute walks to the bus stop every morning, breathing in black traffic fumes, sweating all but a couple hours of the day, dodging downpours, switching between languages, struggling to keep food fresh, setting out glue traps for rats, cooking (and eating) on the floor, doing laundry by hand and trying to get it dry in muggy weather…  I kind of like how that has made little things feel like luxuries now.  I feel so spoiled by our washer and dryer, for instance.

I love the abundance of cheese and good bread here.  I miss newly-harvested Thai jasmine rice.

The whole “going green” movement started while I was gone, so that’s new– but I like it.  I’m having to get introduced to pretty much all of the TV shows on.  The news on TV is so full of graphic effects that it’s kind of distracting and feels even more like entertainment than it used to.

I finally caved and bought a pair of those huge sunglasses that somehow became popular while I was gone.  I kind of didn’t believe people were really wearing them until I got here and yep, that’s all they’re selling now.

It’s weird to eat so many things out of cans or bags or boxes rather than bringing home fresh produce and meat from the nearby street market.

My parents got a new dog, my house has a whole new kitchen, the church I grew up in has a new fellowship hall, my hometown gained several thousand residents and several new stores and restaurants.  People I remember as kids are now teenagers or adults.  Coming home felt a little like time travel, or waking up after a really long sleep.

But ahhhhh…. it’s good to be back.  I feel like I can breathe again (literally and figuratively).  There’s space to rest and reflect, I can blend in if I want to, I don’t have to translate or wonder about my grammar, I get to enjoy people and simple pleasures I’ve been away from for so long.  At some point I will start longing for the home I left behind, but for now I’m just enjoying the return to this one.

Wisdom Made Foolish

This message you’ve entrusted to me
I love it, I live by it
It’s often what holds me together
It’s my deepest joy
But when it comes out of my mouth
In this place of temples and idols
Of desperate souls clinging to
Sacrifice and ritual
Golden monk robes
Seers and spirit houses and merit-making
It can sound like so much foolishness.

They search for release from suffering
And I answer with a man on a cross
Instead of nirvana, they see nails
Instead of wealth and comfort
A crown of thorns

They seek ultimate truth and purity
And I describe a God with emotions
Who can be known by mere man
And became one himself
Who speaks, and has a name

I tell them of a God who is jealous
To them, the ugliest of emotions
Demanding ultimate loyalty
Unwilling to share his worship with the idols
They’ve bowed down to their whole lives

And grace, how convenient a thought
No need for doing good, they conclude
Just a prayer and we’re clean
The good and the evil made equal
Their merit-making empty

But to me it sounds so different
A victor, not a victim
Of evil men or bad karma
An intimate Creator
We made in his image,
Not vice-versa
A devoted husband,
Calling me away from lesser loves
And mercy that is my only hope
Not a lazy, imagined salvation.

It’s the power of God
For those who are being saved
For those to whom you have said
“Let there be light”
And opened their eyes
Spirit, come
Or my words are empty
And my signs are misinterpreted
I’ve seen you do it elsewhere
And I’m asking for it again
In this place where no one has yet praised your name.

This is an interesting question, because I know this place has gotten under my skin and into my blood, but while I’m still here it’s sometimes hard to see how I’ve changed.  The Thai in me will stand out most clearly when I’m back in America.  But with a little reflection, here are some of the things about me or habits that I anticipate will seem a bit odd in the States, or will have to work at changing.

1. My first impulse will be to wai (greet by placing the hands together and bowing the head) whoever picks me up at the airport.
2. I’ll probably feel slightly offended if someone sits with their feet pointing at me.
3. I don’t think I’ll be able to wear shoes in the house anymore.
4. I’ll prefer eating with spoon in the right hand and fork in the left.
5. I’ll need at least a few meals per week of something spicy over rice.
6. It will take awhile to get used to paying for things with debit or credit cards rather than cash all the time.
7. Speaking of money, I’m much more familiar with green 20s, pink 100s, and tan 1,000s than army green 1s, 5s, 10s and 20s.  (In fact, are they still green?  In these same denominations?  It’s seriously been a long time.)
8. I’ll have to refrain from voicing shock and disgust at how huge serving sizes are, and how long the list of unrecognizable ingredients is on food packages.
9. I’ll be wearing a sweater when the temperatures are in the 60s, long sleeves in the 70s, and short sleeves only when it’s above 80.  I haven’t worn shorts above my knees in almost 5 years and I think I’d feel naked in them now.
10. People will probably tell me I smile all the time.
11. I’ll feel really uncomfortable talking above a whisper on public transportation.
12. I’ll be thrilled by little things like thick carpet, baked goods, quiet, free press, Pandora (blocked here), American TV shows, clean air, driving a car, English worship services, beef.
13. It will take me a while before I feel like it’s safe to wear yellow or red again (colors worn by the clashing demonstrators here).
14. I’ll want to get in on the wrong side of the car and drive in the wrong lane.  I’ll need people to remind me about seat belts for awhile.
15. As dusk falls I’ll start thinking about lighting a mosquito coil.
16. The days will feel super short in the winter and super long in the summer.
17. I’ll have to remind myself that it is NOT okay to ask just anyone their age, salary, or how much they just spent on the groceries they’re carrying.

I’m sure there will be more to come. 

As an independence-loving, authority-questioning, full-blooded American, it is sometimes a stretch to see the world through my Thai neighbors’ eyes.  Some parts of community organizing that inherently make sense to me are counter-cultural to the women I’m working with.  Other aspects of it go against my own grain.

I heard recently that on the spectrum of individualism and collectivism, America ranks #1 for the former, and Thailand is at the extreme other end for the latter.  Thais also have a much greater trust and acceptance of the existing social hierarchy and authority figures.  Though protests and coups in recent years would seem to dispute this, this value is alive and well in my slum.

In many ways, the value of collectivism is really helpful in organizing people in the slums.  There is a loyalty not only to one’s own family but to neighbors and community.  The common good is emphasized more than personal achievement.  One example of this is my neighbor Gop.  She managed to complete college and secure a good job at a pharmaceutical company; she really doesn’t need to be living in a slum.  But instead she has stayed, in order to provide for her ailing and addicted parents and step-parents, and more recently, to give back to the community that helped raise her.  This kind of self-sacrifice goes against my American dream mentality.

I’ve never tried organizing in the States, but my guess is that it’s easier here for people to see the benefit of working for the good of a community, and of doing it together.  When I lived in the States, I hardly knew my neighbors, let alone talked with them about how to work together on issues in our neighborhood.

However, when it comes to the inevitable confrontation with authority figures, I just think that comes a lot easier to Americans.  The idea of working for positive change, even if that means going against someone with a title, just makes sense to me.  I don’t feel that I owe deference just because of someone’s position, nor that I need to wait for them to do the work that I could do, or at least give some formal sign of permission.  But this is where my neighbors and I differ the most.

We haven’t had any kind of open confrontation with authority yet in Phothong.  And maybe we won’t, at least nothing dramatic.  But even just the fact that a group of women is meeting together to talk about issues in the community and what they can do about it, and that this group usually has at most one community council member in it, has caused some tension.

Gop helped me lead our last house meeting.  A group of mothers and grandmothers were planning an activity for the kids over their summer break– a drug awareness afternoon for 6 to 12-year-olds.  Afterwards Gop and I debriefed the meeting.  A lot was said about the success of the meeting and the plan, but she also shared her insecurities.

“I felt like I led that really strongly,” she said.  “I wanted other people to talk, but they didn’t say much.”

“Why do you think that was?” I asked.

“Well, here’s what I think.  I think people came here and they saw that no one on the council was here and they started wondering ‘why am I at a meeting that wasn’t called by the council?  Why isn’t the council the group trying to help our kids?’”

The most interesting part of this, to me, is that the council is practically non-existent at this point.  It’s like the “emperor with no clothes.”  Everyone pays deference, but the president has long since fled because of debts to community members she couldn’t repay, and the vice-president recently abandoned her family to move in with another man.  Those remaining haven’t met together in months.  The group has a history of squandering government funds meant for community improvement.  And the list goes on.  Yet still, this is the group that the community has signed over responsibility for bringing about any kind of change in the community.

I tried to reflect back to Gop that I had talked with each of the women individually, and they definitely do have a desire to work together.  They knew coming into it that the group would be made up of people who really were concerned for the kids, not necessarily those who “should” be there, those with titles.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have to just sit and wait for the council to do something,” she said.  “Hopefully once people see how well this program goes, once they see that we really are doing things that are good for the community, people will trust us more.  Hopefully others will join us who right now don’t know why we’re the ones trying to do something for the community.”

It’s exciting to see this hope growing in Gop and others.  I’m encouraged by Gop’s desire to learn and grow as a leader.  I do think that as she grows in her confidence to lead, even though she is not part of the council, that she will become less dominant in the meetings and more free to invite others’ input, trusting that the group is committed to each other and to acting for the good of the community.  It may go against the culture of the slum, but it has always been God’s intention that Phothong community members would be free to act, free to make choices about the environment their kids are growing up in.  I’m praying that this movement toward taking responsibility for their slum would grow and truly transform that place.

Bangkok hasn’t been the name of their capital since 1782, but foreigners never caught up with the name change.  It’s current name is Krungthep (“city of angels”), which is short for it’s full paragraph-lengthed name, the longest place name in the Guinness Book of World Records: “Krung Thep Mahanakhon Amon Rattanakosin Mahinthara Ayuthaya Mahadilok Phop Noppharat Ratchathani Burirom Udomratchaniwet Mahasathan Amon Piman Awatan Sathit Sakkathattiya Witsanukam Prasit.” Roughly translated: “The city of angels, the great city, the residence of the Emerald Buddha, the impregnable city (of Ayutthaya) of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated god, a city given by Indra and built by Vishnukarn.”

The most common greeting here is not “how are you?” but “have you eaten rice yet?”  Which means, “have you had a meal lately?”, because without rice you haven’t really had a meal.

A lot of parents shave the heads of their babies (girls and boys), believing the hair will grow back fuller and shinier

There is no dialing 911 here, only ambulances for hire from private hospitals and volunteer corpse collectors

People are really, really concerned about being clean.  Even in the slums, people shower twice a day at minimum.

Thais only use chopsticks for noodle soup.  Otherwise, it’s spoon and fork (or hands, if they’re eating sticky rice).

Some of the northern provinces were called “cold spell disaster zones” during cold season this year.  Temperatures got down in the mid-40s.

White-skinned foreigners are called “farang,” a slight alteration of the word that means “French” (some of the first Westerners here).  Guavas are also called “farang,” because they are white inside.  Fruit vendors I visit sometimes get a chuckle about the farang who likes to eat farang.

Buddhists believe taking any kind of life is a sin, so the streets are filled with mangy dogs which no one will put out of their mercy at the cost of bad karma.

On public transportation, men will always give up their seats for children, pregnant women, and the elderly.  It’s also common for people sitting to offer to hold in their lap the bags of those standing near them.  I really like this part of the culture.

It is a sign of affection for people to comment on your weight.

Most people wear yellow on Mondays to honor the king, since he was born on a Monday and yellow is the day’s auspicious color.  More recently, it is also popular to wear pink on Tuesdays.  The last time the king was in the hospital he was discharged on a Tuesday, and was told by his doctor to wear pink to gain strength.  Now wearing pink on Tuesdays is a sign of wishing the elderly king long life and health.

The National Emblem of Thailand, which can be seen all over the country and on official documents and currency, is the Garuda– a mythical bird-like creature from Buddhist and Hindu mythology, seen as the god of the sun and sky.  It Garuda is the vehicle for Vishnu, one of the Hindu gods.  Thai kings are seen as reincarnations of this god, part of the reason why the monarchy is worshipped by so many.

Or take their drama or horror movie genres.  The films will have their scenes of intense emotion and gruesome violence (but these, really, are too over-the-top to elicit much of an authentic response).  But then they’ll cut from bloody decapitated guy to goofy extra getting his pants pulled down or something.  Or from poor, misunderstood Cinderella figure to other characters pulling each other’s hair until they both fall into the pool fully clothed.  It can feel kind of jarring to watch, like you’re not sure how you’re supposed to be feeling, except to not take any of it very seriously.  Maybe that’s the point– life is best lived a little lightheartedly.

The first three words I learned in Thai are three of their most important values: saduak, sabai, and sanuk, or convenient, comfortable, and of course, FUN.

I’ve been discovering that even some of the Thai Buddhist temples are this way.  Even in these most somber and contemplative places there are often elements of fun or quirkiness.  Two that I visited within a month of each other are perfect examples– one inhabited by a colony of monkeys, and the other populated by grinning clay Thai children and monks, each wearing their own pair of real glasses.

The first (with the monkeys) was at a look-out point we visited with our church leaders after a training.

This next one was in Ayuthaya, which is most known to tourists as containing ancient ruins of Thailand’s former capital.  We did go see those, but because our Thai friends were playing tour guides, we mostly saw the Thai tourist traps.  Which are a little different from the Lonely Planet highlights.  We didn’t see a foreigner in sight at most of the places we stopped.  You can see more photos from that day on my Flickr page; here are a few from the highlight of that day.

I forgot to mention that this temple is actually most famous for… its bathrooms.  The first air-conditioned bathrooms in a Thai temple, they say.  Carpeting, individual AC units in each stall, flowers… it’s quite the facility.  I guess they didn’t want to leave out the last two ideals of saduak and sabai.

Over the 2 years I’ve lived in the community (not counting the 5 months I was on furlough) I’ve definitely seen changes in the spiritual environment of that place.  Not that there haven’t been moments when I’ve really wondered if anything was happening– I’ve definitely prayed many prayers of pleading and sometimes frustration with the slowness of seeing any fruit.  But when I step back and look at the big picture, the longer-term trends, I can definitely see God’s work.

When I first arrived it was sometimes hard to even get people to smile at me.  There were a few women who were friendly from the beginning, but I would say the majority seemed fairly cold.  Their experience with outsiders was one of either pushy Mormon or Jehovah’s Witness evangelists, or else child-sponsorship program workers who gave money handouts but remained distant and only came around when their budget was in the green.  They didn’t know what to think of me.

After months of smiling and wai-ing and repeating daily that no, I was not going home now because this slum is my home, people finally began seeing me as a neighbor.  They initially called me “kru” or “teacher” since I helped run a kids’ program in my house, but now I’m just “nong”, “pii” or “nuu”– little sister, older sister, child (an affectionate term used by the older generation that literally means “mouse”).

When I would share about Jesus I generally got smiles– “oh yes, he was a good teacher, like Buddha was a good teacher”, or, “Christianity is good like all religions are good because it teaches us to be good.”  It was still often referred to as the foreigner’s religion, or as part of the Western culture and identity while to be Thai is to be Buddhist.

But in the past year or so I’ve had increasingly frequent chances to talk on a deeper level with folks about spirituality and Jesus.  People have shared with me some of their longings and fears– their desire for close relationships but how everyone is marred by selfishness and greed, their feelings of instability in this economy and how they seek their idols for properity, their fears of death and ghosts.

Lately our language partner Gop, a very practical and strong woman, has been asking me deeper questions– “Why are you here?  I get that it’s nice to help poor people, but what do you GET out of it?”  As I’ve tried to explain what it’s like to follow Jesus who loves the poor, to desire to be more like him and receive from him, she stares at me with an intensity I haven’t seen from her before.  I mentioned the possibility of starting a group for people to learn about Jesus, and while at first she didn’t seem too interested, she later asked “so… if someone wanted to come to one of those meetings, would they HAVE to convert?”  I assured her that she could come and just listen if she wanted.  More intense staring.  I think some of her assumptions and fears about faith in Jesus are breaking down.

Our team leader Kevin recently moved into the slum and has been reconnecting with a family he had invested in previously.  I once had dinner with them and Kevin and watched them listen intently to Kevin’s story of the Gospel for over an hour.  These days they still seem hungry to know more.

So Kevin, Christy and I are talking about starting some kind of “seeker-friendly” group in our slum.  We’re starting completely from scratch.  We know what doesn’t work: debating about doctrine, simple spiritual laws, trying to argue them into the Kingdom.  What seems to connect with folks is experience, community, love.  They seek their idols as a way to connect with a higher power that can offer security and peace.  How can we help Thais connect to their Creator, their wealthy and generous Father?

We are thinking about building off of the Thai practice of meditation.  Rather than try to explain Jesus, how much more powerful if he would show himself to them personally.  We will still use Scripture and prayer, but will focus more on meditating on the words, and asking for signs and wonders, healings, for an experience with the living God, that they may see for themselves the difference between him and their idols.

Pray for us as we discuss how to best do this.  Pray for God’s mercy on us as we have no Thai Christian partnership in this slum and we are well aware of our limitations in connecting to the hearts of our neighbors.  Pray that God would bring people and most importantly that his Spirit would be present.  Praise God that he is the one pursuing these people and that he knows exactly what they need in order to believe and trust him.  What an awesome privilege to be a part of this mystery!