Coming back to the US, I've kind of been dreading the inevitable question, "how was your trip?" God showed and taught me so much, that I'm still trying to find the words for it all. But even for the insignificant fraction that I can verbalize, very few people actually have the heart to hear it all. My fifteen-second spiel is this: "It was challenging, but it was also a huge blessing and a great learning experience. God revealed more of his heart for the lost to me. We went there thinking we'd only be sowing seeds, but God was gracious enough to let us see some fruit also."
Just one of the challenges that I faced during the trip was a feeling of inadequacy. I'd been to China before, free of these negative thoughts. But even before we got started on ministry, I had these pestering thoughts that caused me to wonder, "Why am I here?" All I wanted to do those first few days was jump on a plane and go home. It wasn't culture shock. I wasn't homesick. I was getting a first taste of the spiritual warfare that we'd face throughout the trip.
The other struggle was with this (not literal) spirit of division that plagued our team. A couple of our most vocal members thought our team would work together perfectly, but the rest of us anticipated otherwise. Still, there was little we could do or were willing to do to unite the team. For all seven weeks, it was a struggle to love the entire team. But in the end, God still glorified himself. He still used us, in spite of all our brokenness. And in the end, He helped us to reach reconciliation and truly love one another the way we were meant to.
I don't mean this to put down the Lighthouse Church (I love them like family), but I don't think they were ready for us. They had never had missionaries help them before. They didn't come up with a plan for what we would do until we were sitting inside the church. They hadn't prepared for us, but God had.
Pii Vit went around the neighborhood, telling people that Americans had come and were going to teach English at the church. Years of building relationships drew a grand total of 3 students (one of which was Pii Vit's father) in to the first class. By the end of that first class on Tuesday, though, the numbers didn't matter. Sanook maak, they said. Very enjoyable. They said they'd tell all their friends, and we believed it. But then on the following Thursday, no one showed up. And the following Tuesday, one student showed up thirty minutes late for the one hour class. Maybe it was time to change course. We decided to target secondary school students instead. Over the course of three or four days, Pii Vit and the church intern Pii Tuay (pronounced "Doy") passed out a few hundred flyers. Hector and I arrived to the first day of class, full of doubts. We asked, "Will any students come?" In broken English Pii Tuay simply replied, "Don't know. Maybe come, maybe not." We sat there for an hour and no one came. Again I wondered, "What am I doing here?" A short while later, a couple students wandered in. Pii Sah and Pii Ni. We didn't know it then, but God had been preparing Pii Sah for our arrival. At our last class, we discovered that she had been to church as a child. In the US, we take this fact for granted. It's hard to find Americans that haven't been to church at least once. But in Thailand, with less than 1% of the population being Christian, and most of those in Bangkok, it could only be according to God's plan that Pii Sah, who was from the distant Udon Thani province had already been exposed to the gospel.
Pii Sah didn't commit her life to Christ while we were there, but we have faith that God will draw her into his kingdom in his time.
There's just one more story of God's faithfulness that I want to share now (I'll probably keep writing shorter entries for awhile about what happened in Thailand). The one ministry that we were consistently involved with since the beginning was the church's Saturday children's ministry. Early on, Pii Vit told us that a couple of the kids, Bang and Nan, came from a broken family. Along with the middle sister Noon (who for some reason never came), they live with their dad and grandma and grandpa. Their mom is absent from their lives and their grandpa is the only one that works. Pii Vit told us that Bang and Nan like to show up to church early because they don't always have food at home, and they know there's a chance they can get some at church. I decided to buy some food and give it to them. It didn't really bother me, but Pii Vit pointed out that Nan didn't feel grateful. A feeble "khawp khun kha" (thank you) had to be pulled out of her. Pii Vit told me to pray that God would work in her and Bang's heart every time they ate the food. So I did. By the end of our trip, I was able to see the fruit of those prayers. The first week I'd met Nan, she was pretty shy. You could tell that she wanted to be loved, but didn't quite know how to accept it. The last week we were at the church, she came up to me and just smiled and took my hand. I hadn't seen her much between that day and the day I'd dropped off the food, but God had been working in her heart the entire time.
Preparing for this trip, I expected to be blessed more than I would be able to bless. But God blew even those expectations out of the water. I never would have even dreamt of all the ways he would grow and encourage me during those two brief months. There is so much more to say, but I don't think it'd be beneficial to dump it all out at once, and I'm not quite done processing myself anyway. I'm planning on writing weekly for at least a few more months, and I hope you'll continue reading. Until next time, Prajao ouwii pon (God bless you)
-rebecca
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