A few days ago I went to a nearby mall and saw, I am not kidding you, a woman feeding her dog an ice cream cone.  It was sitting in her lap on a mall bench, was immaculately groomed and I’m  pretty sure it was wearing clothes.  And lapping at a McDonald’s ice cream come.

In my slum, the dogs are malnourished and nasty.  Even their owners (if they have one) won’t touch them.  They are skin and bones, often missing an eye, limb, or part of their tail.  And they are constantly trying to scratch their skin off (and sometimes succeeding) because of their mange and fleas.

Yet in nearby neighborhoods women are dressing and feeding their animals better than the children around me are dressed and fed.

Also, within a 5-minute walk from my slum a new Walmart-like store is being built.  In the complex will be a Starbucks.  I will now live closer to a Starbucks than I ever did in the States.  I could leave my mosquito-infested shack over a garbage-slash-sewage swamp, walk a few blocks and be inside the air-conditioned, coffee-scented, sterilized comfort of Starbucks.

This is the world of contrasts my neighbors live in.  Their slums are neatly hidden away from the middle and upper class eyes, but the wealth of their fellow city-dwellers is right in front of their faces.  They leave their slum and wait for their bus to arrive, amidst shiny new luxury cars and motorcycles.  They might spend 75 cents for a street-stall meal while across the street others are paying $10 for practically the same food.

And now there will be a coffee shop they’ll pass by, selling a drink for an amount that could feed their whole family. 

I, too, feel this contrast.  I sometimes think it would be easier to be a missionary to the poor somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where just about everyone is poor and there is not the temptation of upper class comfort in my backyard.  Not that these things are evil (I’m sure I’ll visit the Starbucks once in a while), but they do make it more of a challenge to choose the world of my slum-dwelling friends over the one I left behind.  Like Jesus refusing those who would make him an earthly king, I have to refuse some of these things for the sake of identifying with those I am called to, those who Jesus says are blessed, those who receive the Kingdom in ways that I need to learn from.

And I want to partner with Jesus in sharing good news to the poor, news that makes the most impoverished believer richer than the wealthiest in this city.  And I believe that as God’s kingdom comes he will heal this gap between the rich and poor, a product of the fall.  This is what I want to spend my life on, and it feels well worth the things I leave behind.

Once in a while I notice themes in my life, like reading a good novel that has an emerging message through its story line.  It’s kind of cool when God does that.

Lately he has been reminding me of how good it is to be safe in Christ.  And how many people, especially in Thailand, really do live in fear: of death, of bad luck, of the ghosts of their deceased loved ones.  This is one way the Gospel is truly good news to the Thais.  God is offering them an escape from fear, a promise of everlasting safety.

A couple scenes that have illustrated this lately:

One afternoon I came home and saw three of my young neighbors, 7 or 8 years old, splashing water on the outside of my house with long leaves.  They appeared to be imitating the way monks will often bless a house with “holy water” as part of a house-warming ceremony.  The kids were chanting “No ghosts in this house, no ghosts in this house.”  I asked them what they were doing, and one of the little girls said she was protecting me from ghosts.  She turned to me and whispered “I know the family who lived here and the father died in this house.”  I told her she doesn’t need to be afraid– Jesus protects us.  I was struck by just how real ghosts are to these kids.  And to the adults in the community, too, as I’ve seen repeatedly.

A few weeks later I was invited to a Thai funeral by neighbors.  People are somber but not emotional at these events, and they pay their respects to the deceased quietly, through lighting incense and bowing down before the coffin (as well as often paying their respects to the Buddha images and other idols in the room).  Then the monks chant for a good 30 minutes, in order to help the soul of the deceased leave the body and to make its way to a “heaven” while it awaits reincarnation.

The monk chanting is always a creepy experience for me.  Other Thais I have talked to have also said they feel funerals are scary.  I usually just sit quietly, without kneeling before the idols or taking the mediative posture while the monks chant.  I take the time to pray and just observe.

This time I was sitting close enough to the monks to read the fans that they hold in front of their faces while they chant.  Each one has a different phrase on it.  They read “Bpai mai glap, lap mai dteun, feun mai mii, nii mai pon” or “Go without returning, Sleep without waking, Let their be no rising from the dead, Escape without being caught” (roughly).  Not only are the relatives and friends making merit so the deceased can have a better next life, but also so the ghost of their loved one doesn’t stay around and haunt them.

There was one day when I asked some of the youth in our church how their lives have changed after becoming believers.  The first thing they told me was that they feel so much freedom and joy knowing their eternal destiny is secure, and they do not need to be afraid that they have not made enough merit before they die.  This is what I love about the Gospel right now.

“Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death– that is, the devil– and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.” (Hebrews 2:14-15)

Would many more Thais be set free from this slavery!

I’ve had a number of people ask me, “What is it like being a missionary in Thailand?”  Here is something I wrote to one person who asked that; I thought I’d post it here for other people who are curious.

What is it like to be a missionary in Thailand…  There are definitely some perks about serving here.  Learning the language and culture is an ongoing adventure of discovery, even though Thai is said to be one of the most difficult languages in the world, and there are so many layers to the culture that I’ll always have more to learn.  One main aspect of the culture is FOOD—which is delicious, in abundance, and cheap.  The Thais love their food and take pride in it, and every activity involves eating.  A common greeting (like our “how are you?”) is “have you eaten yet?”  So much of missionary life is sitting with people and sharing meals, developing a higher spice tolerance and learning to eat parts of animals that would never get cooked in the States.  J  There are beautiful beaches here and jungle areas to explore during retreats and time off, the streets are always teeming with open-air markets, and it is sunny for at least part of every day.  I’m glad God called me to this place.

But it’s not all easy.  It is extremely hot here, and serving the poor incarnationally means I suffer from the heat, humidity, mosquitoes right along with my neighbors.  This and other physical stressors, as well as culture shock (feeling like you have to relearn everything that once came naturally) often bring out the worst in missionaries.  This is actually a good thing—it keeps us humble, helps us to remember we need Jesus just as much as those we came to share the Gospel to.  Almost everyone here believes in Buddhism, as well as everyone they admire, from the king and prime minister down to the public school teachers.  It is infused in everything, and every other religion feels foreign.  It is difficult for Thais to believe that they can become a Christian and still remain Thai, that they will not be a traitor to their culture and upbringing.  So while we don’t face persecution or danger as missionaries, we face very stubborn walls of resistance in most Thais’ hearts.  The Gospel has made slow progress here.

But it has also been exciting to learn about Buddhism and Thai culture and see ways that God’s fingerprints are all over them.  For instance, the Buddha prophesied a man who would come to save people from their wrongdoing, who would be injured in the hands and the feet.  Thai culture has many values that God has placed there, like the high value of doing good and sacrificing for others, honoring one’s elders and showing hospitality.  It is beautiful when Thais become believers and we get to see God work at redeeming their culture, using practices that previously were part of Buddhism now used to honor Jesus.  And worship using traditional Thai forms is especially powerful.  In many ways being a missionary is about getting a bigger picture of who God is, seeing a side of Him that you miss if you stay in one culture.  I have hope that as more and more Thais express their worship and the Gospel in their heart language and their native forms, more and more Thais will understand that being a Christian is what being fully Thai means—being the Thai that God created them to be, following Him.

I wish I had written this.

Location
-Alexis Spencer-Byers

They say I’m brave to live here—
A courageous soul, more so than most
And I believe that they intend it
As a compliment to me
But what they fail to understand
Is the grave insult implied
To those I choose to live among
If being their neighbor
Makes me a hero

What would they say
If they knew the truth-
That the suburbs with their perfect lawns
Their swimming pools and soccer moms
Terrify me
Far more than the dangers
(Real and alleged)
Of my beloved ‘hood?
What would they say
If they discovered this fact—
That I am not brave at all
Just more at home
Where I can be
As broken as the next?

This is something I wrote for an advent devotional one of my sending churches put out this year.

Waiting…

Especially in fast-paced, efficiency-oriented Western culture, that word seems to have a negative connotation.  For me I think of idleness, listening to the clock ticking away seconds and minutes, an uncomfortable in-between stage.  It’s an unpleasant time to just make it through in order to get to the anticipated end.

But James’ illustration of the farmer paints a different picture (James 5:7-8).  He is anything but idle, continuing to work the ground as he waits.  It is a picture of partnership between him and God, who provides the “autumn and spring rains” and is author of the mystery that turns a small, hidden seed into life-giving, “precious crop”.

It is a picture of faith that this labor is not in vain, though the process lies hidden beneath the soil for so much of the year.

It is a picture of perseverance, as James tells us to “be patient and stand firm”, even in the face of suffering (v. 10).

It is a picture of anticipation, as the farmer knows that something good is coming, a reason to celebrate.

For me, as I look toward Christmas, it is a reminder that waiting for Christ and his Kingdom to come here in Bangkok is a joyful and active thing.  While I often focus on what is not yet or what is needed, I can forget that there are seeds germinating in the soil even now.  When my work feels fruitless, this is a challenge to trust God with the seeds I have planted.

Here in Bangkok, few people know the King of Kings, but they are highly devoted to their earthly king.  The King of Thailand will celebrate his 80^th birthday this December, and Thais have been doing many things to anticipate the event.  From wearing yellow every Monday, to an upsurge in charity and environmental work to honor their king, it is clearly on the forefront on everyone’s minds.

As I anticipate Christmas, this is a challenge to me.  If this is how Thais honor a man who has served them well, how much more should we honor our King and Savior as we await his coming birthday!  Would our continued planting of seeds of the Kingdom around us be a way to anticipate our Lord’s birthday and future coming.

the thing about babies unborn
is that their only task
is to prepare for the life to come
and the only urge in their every cell,
is a yearning to be born

this advent, put me back into your womb, God
so every cell in me finds that single-minded longing
for life again
- Cheryl Lawrie

One of the things I’m good at is being able to identify just about every problem, obstacle, risk or difficulty in a situation. This can be helpful (especially around people who are eternal optimists), but can also be completely obnoxious both to myself and others. On my good days, this helps me keep myself and co-workers realistic, to problem-solve and anticipate problems before they happen. On my bad days, I get overwhelmed by the “what ifs” and can spiral into hopelessness.

It’s on the bad days that I most need hope in God’s ability to do the impossible.

Lately I’ve had some bad days. From a human point of view, the situation in my slum, as far as our ministry is concerned, could seem hopeless. Our Thai partnership has weakened considerably, to the point where I wonder if I even have any. The group of kids coming on Sundays has grown to the point of chaos, and it seems like they are not getting anything from our program and we are lucky if we just keep them from beating each other up by the end of the evening. My efforts at spending time with the women in the community is often hindered due to the gambling addiction that keeps them bent over their dice games for hours on end. One woman who I had a great relationship with recently had a fight with her husband and left.

Into this environment we have been hoping to welcome two new teammates. I have not stopped wondering how in the world this was going to work, or even whether it was worth it to try. The other community with openings is a far better set-up in terms of Thai partnership, size (it is much larger), hospitality (more Isan culture rather than central Thai), and living environment (it is better-off financially, so housing is of higher quality). If I were a new teammate, that’s where I’d want to be.

Then throw into the mix the practical: everyone I asked in my slum recently said there was no housing available.

Tuesday night I was feeling particularly frustrated. Everything in me wanted to recommend this other slum, Samaki, to our new teammates. But that would leave me alone in my slum, something I think I can live with for only so much longer.

So I prayed what felt like a weak and maybe foolish prayer. I asked God to give me some kind of sign. This is maybe only a month after a prayer time where I had clearly heard that it was good and right for me to continue being in Phothong for now. But here I was, completely doubting everything, using my human reason to decide that the situation looked hopeless. So, okay, God– if you want this to work, you need to convince me. And the sign I’d really like is for housing to open up.

The first thing that happened is I went home Tuesday, walked by the house of the woman who had left her husband, and she had moved back in. This is someone who has been particularly welcoming of potential teammates when they have come to visit, so this meant a lot to me that she is part of the community again.

Then on Wednesday I hung out with a family I spend a lot of time with. As I was sitting there a woman came up to me. “Are you still looking for a house for your friends?” And she led me to a completely open house, being rented by its owner, plenty big enough for two new teammates, and close to friendly neighbors who I’m sure would give them a warm welcome.

We don’t know if it will be available in a month, when they come. I haven’t seen the inside yet to see what condition it’s in. But it served its purpose. Thank you, God, for this truly undeserved grace. And for teaching me to expect the unexpected. The foolishness of God truly is wiser than man’s wisdom. Who knows what God will do in this most unlikely of places? He is certainly capable of more than I can imagine.

Since it’s an aspect of my life here, though not exactly glamorous or inspiring, I thought I’d share a little bit about my migraines.

When I stop to think about it (and when I’m not in the throes of one), migraines are pretty fascinating. If I didn’t have a label for what was happening to me and hadn’t learned anything about it, I’d think I was dying or going crazy.

It starts for me with what’s called a “prodrome”. This is like warning signs that let migraneurs know that an attack is coming. It seems to be different for everyone, but for me I will often get hot flashes, either depression or super high energy for about a day, sometimes sudden extreme fatigue. I usually just feel “off” and can’t explain why until I wonder “maybe I’m going to get a migraine…”

Then comes the aura phase. I’ve only had a handful of migraines preceded by visual aura, but they were quite disturbing each time. I will generally get a flashing line over one side of my line of sight, as if I had looked into a bright light and then looked away. Except it hangs on for about 15 minutes, growing, until eventually my vision goes completely dark on that one side. By this time I have probably swallowed a bunch of drugs because I know that some serious head pain is on its way.

Other times I will have a sense of mild vertigo, either hunger or nausea before the headache hits.

Then comes the pounding pain on one side (the ones on the right tend to be more painful, whereas the ones on the left make me feel more sick to my stomach). This often spreads to the whole head. If I’ve taken meds during the aura stage it usually is not too horrible or last terribly long (a few hours rather than a day or two). If I wake up with pain, though, I know I’m in for a rough day.

My absolute worst migraine of all time had me shivering, shaking, one hand gone weak and tingly, and in horrible pain. I really thought I was having a stroke. But I was able to form coherent sentences, so I figured I was okay. My blood pressure was so low when standing that I had to keep prostrate for most of the day. It was no fun.

After the headache is over (from a couple hours to 2-3 days later), then I go into “postdrome”, the recovery or “hangover” phase. This week that meant two days of fatigue, needing 10 hours of sleep each night, lack of energy or motivation to do anything. Again asking myself “what’s wrong with me?”, confused, until realizing “maybe I’m just recovering from the trauma my body just went through.”

The good news for me is that these attacks happen only about once a month rather than once a week, which was my experience at my worst, during my first term on the field. And I’ve gotten better at identifying the warning signs, the triggers (though some of these I can’t control, like weather changes), and how to best treat them. Unfortunately, I still get them far more often and more severe here in Bangkok than in the States. But I’ve done all I know to do to try to help myself and I think this is just something I have to deal with as part of my life here. It has definitely served to keep me humble, as Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” did, depending on God’s strength in the midst of my weakness.

… for my former slum community of Permsup.  The long-threatened road construction that is evicting the community is now becoming a reality.  As I walk from my community of Phothong to the bus stop every day I pass these bulldozers and am reminded to pray for the many inhabitants who do not have plans yet of where they will relocate to.  At the pace I’m seeing the construction encroach on the sports park adjacent to the slum, Permsup has weeks left at best.  Please keep them in your prayers.

In the back you can see one of Permsup’s houses and just how close the bulldozers are.

Below is my report after 3 months of being back in Bangkok since my furlough. Updates, photos, prayer requests!

Newsletter Aug 07 (pdf)