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Click on the image to read my last newsletter from Bangkok! Some highlights:
Turning
Sometimes betrayal comes as a kiss
Sometimes a lie seems like what’s real
And we get so lost
We want to believe, to turn back
To what is truly holy
To the embrace we’ve once known
That seemed too good
And yet somehow not enough
Have mercy
Hear the groan and the plea
That gets stuck in our throat
And the prayer silenced by shame
Pry our hands away
From the enemies we cling to
Oh, lifter of our heads
Turn our faces back to you
I won’t lie—though these past couple of weeks have been dominated by joy, I’ve also been somewhat… perplexed. Frustrated, even. I mean, could the timing of all this be any less convenient? What is God thinking? I don’t at all mean that I could do things better. There have been too many miracles, too many beautiful orchestrations lately that even in my best-case scenarios I wouldn’t have dared (or been creative enough) to dream up. So I have to believe that God has SOME reason for this. It’s just eluding my inferior mind completely.
I’m leaving in October. In THREE months. The last few weeks of that I’ll be completely useless, trying to say goodbyes, tie up loose ends, deciding how and what to pack up or leave behind from my life for the last five years. And in the midst of this preparing for the end, God brings new life. Two new believers in one week (maybe five, depending on how you define it) in this place I’ve labored in for so long. And so little time to nurture them, to lead this house church, to enjoy this new season of harvest I’ve prayed for over the years.
Below is a poem I wrote– a prayer, really– on Saturday. On Sunday morning came a very clear answer, to my prayers and those of many others, in Yut’s decision to give her life to Jesus. A church is born in my slum, after nearly 3 years of sharing and praying and waiting… God is good!
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.
