A New Year's prayer, one year later

Yesterday, I stood and worshiped in the same church where I'd stood and worshiped 364 days ago on New Year's Eve. We sang, "Blessed be your name in the land that is plentiful... and blessed be your name when I'm found in the desert place..." and I remembered this Sunday last year. 

That day, I sat with my teammates, Carole and Victor. Before the first song, they whispered to me the news they'd just learned: their entire ministry, a Cambodian teacher training program, had to stop immediately following an unexpected new government decree. ("Private institutions may not train teachers.") It wasn't aimed at the school where they taught, or even at foreigners/Christians/nonprofits in general, but they were still collateral damage. And I thought to myself, What in the world does the coming year hold? 

I thought I knew what I came back to Cambodia to do. Suddenly I hadn't a clue. 

Earlier that day, I'd written this prayer:

Throughout 2018, would You please produce in me...

• More concern about how well I'm loving others, and less concern about how well they're loving me
• More reliance on the Holy Spirit who indwells me, and less reliance on my to-do list
• More stable joy, and less pursuit of fleeting happiness
• More awe of Your image in others, and less comparison of myself to them
• More time in the Good Book, and less time on Facebook
• More generous hospitality, and less fear of man
• More fervent intercession, and less fruitless worry
• More diligence in language practice, and less arrogance about the undeserved gift You've given me
• More liberty, and less license or legalism
• More godliness with contentment (which is great gain), and less striving for meaningless gain
• More wholehearted worship, and less adulterous idolatry
• More words of encouragement, and fewer words of advice

Jesus, you promise that whatever I ask in Your Name according to Your will, the Father will give me. When I bear much fruit, I'm revealed as Your disciple, and the Father is glorified (John 15:8). That's what You want for my life, and that's what I want too. 

It felt like too many things, but I wasn't sure which ones to take out, so I just left them all in. I taped the prayer above my bed. I wish I could say I'd read it and prayed through it weekly, or that I'd had a concrete action plan to help me form new habits. But I did occasionally revisit it, and it always reoriented me toward truth.

And you know what? These are some of the key areas I've been growing in this year. This prayer trickled into a lot of other prayers on my balcony and on my moto, in my kitchen and in the classroom. One means of growth came within hours, as I digested the whispered news from Carole and Victor. Others came through new friendships that went from surface-y to glimpses of someone's inner heart. Others came through friends and loved ones carrying much heavier burdens than mine, where I was powerless to do anything but cry out to God with them. Still others came through seemingly unchanging situations that changed me over time.

For some points on the list, I think, "Oof! Did I grow at all?" For others, I'm not where I used to be, but I'm still so far from where I could be. It's OK. I can celebrate my progress even while longing for more. On December 31, 2018, I'm not who I was on December 31, 2017. I can see God's faithfulness so clearly in the way He's provided opportunities and challenges to abandon my plans and embrace His, to scoff at my broken cisterns (like self-importance and people-pleasing) and take deep gulps of His springs of living water (Jeremiah 2:13). 

Pastor Daren preached last New Year's Eve, and I wrote down one of his comments. "One of the greatest temptations that will face us in 2018 is discontentment - an affront to God's goodness and sovereignty." Hmm, maybe that was the key to understanding my vanishing ministry plans and a couple other situations that I was less than thrilled about. Maybe the battle was less about finding the right thing to do, and more about embracing a right heart attitude. Inspired by that comment, I went home and started singing the Oh Hellos' "Exeunt," addressing it to self-pity and grumbling.

Now, I am not the fool I was when I was younger

Crocodile eyes, I have seen how you hunger

Fluttering your lashes, like ashes and embers

Warm and bright as fire devouring timber

No, I cannot trust what you say when you're grieving

So, my love, I'm sorry, but still: I am leaving

Even when you hunt me with ire, relentless

Batter down my door when you find me defenseless

I will not abide all your raging and reaving

I have set my mind and my will: I am leaving

I wouldn't say I've left grumbling behind yet. But as a language nerd, I like that the song ends with the present continuous tense: I am leaving. It's ongoing.

For 2019, I don't have a new list. I think I'll keep going with this one. But in reflecting yesterday, I was reminded of a post by special needs mom and gifted writer Kara Dedert that I read last year shortly after writing this prayer, a post I liked so much that I saved it to revisit now:

I don't have a list of resolutions for the new year to better myself or my life. I've tried that, maybe made a few small changes, but the real change comes from someone else - Jesus. So I want my focus to be all wrapped up in Him. 

I want my feet to walk on purposely thru dark nights when faith seems pointless. 
My hands to reach out to those around me, carrying each other along the way and inviting others to walk the way of the cross with us. 
My eyes quick to see the weight of glory that is coming. 
Whether I'm enjoying art, writing or music - may it whisper His name. 
When investing in friendships - may it lead to eternal bonds in Christ. 
When I read, fellowship, pray and worship - may it be water to a living faith that is growing in Christ. 
When I clean my home and spend oodles of time with my kids - may it be the setting where Christ is rooted in their hearts and His grace trumps my very imperfect mothering. 
When I care for Calvin's needs and feel angry and helpless when he suffers, may I remember Christ became broken to overcome ours and is making all things new. 

I'm broken and very flawed, but walking the way of the cross heals me and breathes life into every aspect of my life. My plan is to keep breathing in that life in 2018.

A few sentences are specific to her life, and I can tailor them to fit mine. But she's named my top goal for 2019: to breathe Christ's life into every arena of my own life. 

Loving Cambodia 101

Here's a guest post from my mom, Jan Cooper, about her recent visit. My love of writing is from her... enjoy this glimpse of Cambodia through her eyes!

I visited Chelsea this month, my second time to Cambodia. A fun and adventuresome travel companion from Davisville Church came with me, Holly Ferguson. We spent time both in Phnom Penh and up north with Chelsea's amazing, lovely fellow World Teamers. There we helped lead a two day children's ministries training with children's volunteers who work in the local villages. Then Chelsea and I traveled down south to the shore for a mini vacation. My trip gave me only 8 days in country, but it was a rich and varied time, memorable on many levels.

A typical response when I tell someone that my daughter has moved to Cambodia is, "She must really love it there." After spending seven of the last 9 years in country, she likely would agree that she does truly love this small country on the other side of our planet. But as in any relationship, love doesn't come easy. Love implodes if it's not selfless and sacrificial. Love must patiently learn to accept flaws. Cambodia is not an easy place to live, an intuitive place to love. And for this American, at least, it's not always easy to be lovable when living there.

Because, for all my "I used to live in Europe," and "I speak German," I'm still very much an American. I want to fix things, tackle problems. Going through the streets, I want to organize a Cambodian version of "Don't be a litterbug", the campaign that cleaned up the US in my childhood. I want to tell everyone to stop wearing hooded sweatshirts and jeans in the sweltering heat, that it's okay if the sun turns their skin a shade darker, it's really okay. I want to tell them how beautiful they are, such lovely, amazing children they have, so ready to wave and call out, "helloIloveyouwhat's your name" when we pass. I want to round up the parade of stray dogs off the city streets and their trash diet and give them a happy life on a farm. I'd like to make everyone wear a life jacket on the rickety ferry boat. I'd like to pull aside the clever and intelligent but underemployed tuk-tuk driver who taught himself English. I'd like to reach out to the young woman at the market stall with a life work of selling scarves. I'd like to hand them a pathway to a skilled trade that challenges their minds, an education. I'd like to provide running water for the villages. I'd like to stop the rolling truckloads with thousands of garment workers, all young women, and provide the hope of a different life for them. And, less nobly, I'd like to provide each bathroom a clean working toilet with a real seat and a roll of toilet paper. Oh, yes, and I'd like to send the lizards and toads and snails and super-sized insects to a safe place anywhere outside my four walls.

But I can't. I can't even find my own way through the ever-expanding city. Without a translator by my side, I can communicate exactly nothing. And even if I could say these things in fluent Khmer, it would have only a negative effect to focus on the unchangeable. I'd like to think I'm more able to flex culturally, and am disappointed to find the small luxuries built into my daily routines have clouded my lens. Being there showed me how short it is to the end of my rope, how the smells and heat and poverty around me overcome my appreciation for the world's peoples.

But yet there was so much to love:

     The endless varieties of flowers and fruits. Tasting and enjoying passion fruit and dragonfruit and jackfruit and the variety of mangoes. Even bananas tasted richer, creamier. 

     The beautiful shoreline rising into green mountainsides. The flat landscape of so much of the countryside like a child's drawing dotted with palm trees and triangle mountains. 

     The crazy patchwork of traffic patterns, where people weave in and out in an unrushed manner and no one seems bothered by road rage. 

     The soups and stews and heaps of steaming rice and fruit smoothies with the richest of flavors.

     The easy way people sit on the floor together.

     Hearing my daughter speak Khmer, seeing her joy and warmth in the interactions with the neighborhood shopkeeper, the tuk tuk drivers and market sellers, the worker at the butterfly garden. Feeling her love for this place cracking open my heart, too. Loving what she loves.

     The welcome that we got from the bevy of high school girls at the Plas Prai dorm in Preah Vihear. Chelsea bonded with them throughout last summer as she was finishing language training. These are all girls from subsistence rice farming families who would not have been able to finish high school in their village, and could not afford to move to a city to do so. They were the cream of the crop of a group of applicants, and knew they were privileged to stay in the dorm, six to a room on thin mattresses, so they could finish high school.

     The families from Davisville Church who followed the call to Cambodia 15 years ago. Spending time in the Gabriels’ home, enjoying home-cooked meals and hearing about SAM, the school of applied mission, which is training the rural pastors and leaders in that area. Meeting up with the Hartsfields, whose focus is shifting to the growing task of leading World Team staff for all of Asia.

     The children's ministries training in the open air facility, with all the distractions of chickens and children and loud speakers on trucks and water deliveries, yet culminating after months of preparation by the staff in Preah Vihear and me. Seeing it come to pass, resonate, spark change.

     Watching the lessons we taught, now put to work in the villages. A new creativity, fresh ideas to try out, which seemed to be enjoyed by the leaders and participants.

But as I watched, it struck me: would our American kids come and sit on pig feed bags in the dirt and the heat, sing songs at the top of their lungs, and play and take part and listen together? We require so much more in comfort and climate control and technology and glitz. I'm not sure how much our kids stateside could focus on the basic truths without the bells and whistles.

What would a Cambodian think of how we do church, how we live our lives? What would they find hard to love here in America? What would they want to change, but find us intractable?

God love us, God love us all.

Visits are my favorite

What's harder:

A. moving to the other side of the world at age 22, or 

B. letting your daughter move to the other side of the world at age 22 with your blessing?

I'm pretty sure it's B. But that's what my parents did. 

When I first heard about Logos School and its vacant position for an English teacher, I called my mom and basically said, "This is crazy, right? Talk me out of this." Instead, she told me, "What's the harm in applying?" (I knew my dad would agree since he used to tell me, "Do some things that surprise you.") She and my dad were committed to missions even before I was born, so they supported me through my jitters and second thoughts, and hugged me tight at the airport. She later told me, "I felt like you were falling off a cliff and disappearing. If anything happened to you there, how would I even know?" 

Mom and I are kindred spirits. I think my being away has been harder for her than for my dad, though I'm close with him too. But she's never questioned my commitment to being overseas. Instead, she's savored connecting with me over e-mail and Skype, and during my time stateside. She learned the names of countless people she'd never met, read up on the societal issues here, tracked with the ins and outs of my weeks and months, noted how I've adapted to life here. She prays for me every day. She's done an amazing job at long-distance mothering.

Best of all, she came to visit - once with my dad in 2012, and again this month. (My dad couldn't make it this time due to his job, but I'm hoping he'll come again soon!) There's no better way to bridge the gap between my two homes and communities than face-to-face interaction. 

We packed a lot into her nine days here. It reminded me how much has changed for us both since her last trip. Her friend Holly and a Khmer-American girl named Sam came along, both connections through the church my parents joined in 2012, right after their last visit. And of the dozens of people I introduced my mom to here, there was only one repeat from last time: my former roommate, Michaela.

L to R: Holly, my neighbor Panny, Panny's mom, my mom, me

The day after they arrived, we headed north to Preah Vihear, where I did my homestay this summer. Both my mom and I loved the chance for her to connect with my friends there. And it was extra special for Holly, who's been sponsoring Avaty, one of the dorm girls at Plas Prai. (Avaty was completely surprised by her visit, and told Holly, "Sorry I didn't recognize you - in your photos I didn't realize how tall you were!")

Thim, Holly, Avaty 

Sam is volunteering for a while in Phnom Penh,
but joined us in Preah Vihear first

Mom and Holly led a 2-day seminar on children's ministries, which is Mom's job back in PA. So I got to see her in her element, just like she got to see me in mine. I helped translate the handouts and some of the sessions, but thankfully my teammate Joel and a couple of Cambodians were much better equipped than I was to do most of the work. Joel didn't just translate word for word - he took the concepts and made them make sense to the audience, with appropriate examples and jokes along the way. Life goals for me!

Mom worked hard to base the seminar on input from my teammates and their Khmer partners who work in PV. Their top advice: Teach a little, use it a lot. So we used it all! 

Reenacting the disciples and Jesus in a storm: those sitting are in the boat, while those standing are the boat and the waves

We reflected on our childhoods and how adults made us feel... 
   we played the games... 

      we dissected a Bible passage on Zaccheus meeting Jesus... 

         we created discussion questions...

            we planned a lesson... 

               and we taught it to real kids at the end. 

Actually, I shouldn't say "we" taught it: the seminar participants did all the work themselves, with us leaders/organizers as resources during planning. In my group, one girl volunteered to narrate the story of Zaccheus, but she had a nasty headache and couldn't join us. The group felt insecure about their ability to tell it without her on short notice. But another girl ended up retelling it entirely from memory, and did a fantastic job! I was impressed with my whole group's stage presence. They were enthusiastic, caring, asked good questions, kept the kids engaged, and implemented new games and review strategies. 

  

In another group, they made up an original song about Zaccheus. My mom had briefly mentioned that as one possibility, but I didn't expect anyone to try it. In September, I participated in seminars with about 250 Cambodian teachers where they were asked to create a song to review any concept, from colors to chemical reactions. They'd really struggled to be original and not just perform an existing song, even with 10 minutes to work in groups on that specific task. But this group added fun new lyrics and actions to an existing melody ("Father Abraham") to create a memorable lesson. Look at their rapt audience!

After the seminar, Sam returned to Phnom Penh, and Holly stayed on with my teammates (her longtime friends). She loved her adventures, from rice farming, to meeting Avaty's family, to snapping the remarkable photo below: a tokay lizard eating a centipede! I'm glad I don't see either one in Phnom Penh. Lizards in general are great about eating bugs, so I don't mind all the small ones at my house. By contrast, a centipede bit my friend and it burned for a week. No thanks. 

Meanwhile, Mom and I headed south to the beautiful town of Kep, nestled between jungle hills and coastline. 

Our bungalow

We took a day trip to Rabbit Island. It was great, but a leisurely morning walk around it featured a bit more adventure near the end than we'd bargained for. We tried to pass a mangrove forest at high tide, when the shore was underwater. Mangroves are fun to look at, but not to wrestle a path through. However, swarms of sea lice attacking our legs in the water made us decide the mangrove route was worth it for a while. When we despaired of mangroves and tried the water again, the sea lice were gone, but the mud was deep and strong. The very first step sucked Mom in so far that her purse took a dip and her sandal took over ten minutes to find. Next time, we'll plan ahead... or maybe just lounge on the main beach. (Yes, the walk was my idea, and yes, a Cambodian tried to warn me that we should turn around instead of doing a complete loop. My mom should get a medal for not once saying "I told you so.")

Mangroves

At the butterfly garden

Being together in a new context allowed me to reflect on the similarities and differences between Mom and me. She's jumpier than I am: even when I warned her, she still shrieked at the large snail that wanted to share our bathroom. She's more confident in front of a crowd, better at jet lag, and a less adventurous eater. But like me, she was so eager to soak up nature, to relate to people, and to learn and use a bit of Khmer. She had great questions for everyone she met, and the conversations were so much richer because of all that she's invested into understanding my life for the seven years I've been here. We're already looking forward to her next trip.

Mom's done a lot to bridge our worlds, and this visit reminded me how very grateful I am for her.

Ten thousand reasons

It takes me about one minute a day.

One minute, nearly every day, I jot down a few lines in my "gift list." 

No big deal... except that it's changed my life.

As of last month, I have recorded ten thousand reasons that I'm grateful.

It started in Spring 2011, almost two years into my time in Cambodia. A friend recommended Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. She explained the premise or "dare" of the book: by writing down three things a day that you're thankful for, in one year your list will reach 1000. I scoffed, "Who needs a whole book to explain that?" But I liked the idea, so I started writing things down, with no idea whether I'd stick it out all year. (I later read the book and liked it better than I'd expected... it obviously had a lot more content. But you don't have to like Voskamp to try the list.)

My list contained the gamut of good things. Cold refreshing smoothies, cooperative traffic lights, and comfy shoes. Acts of kindness, great role models, and sweet moments with loved ones. Biblical truths, unexpected opportunities, and evidence of growth in myself or those around me. One of the early items, after Japan's tragic tsunami, was Cambodia's safety from natural disasters. Every now and then, I'd repeat an item if it was just that good - there are a lot of variations on "chocolate," "mangoes," and "naps." 

I didn't realize how much I needed this list. In the first few months, I was often overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxious. "Nothing to add from today," I'd mumble to myself some nights. But as I stopped and reflected, there was always something. In fact, there were always some things. 

Inevitably on those "nothing" days, until I sat down with my journal, still-ungraded essays or a flopped lesson or concern for a hurting friend had pushed out of my mind a colleague's patience with me. Or the sunset that I'd seen driving home from work. Or the satisfaction of a clean room or a tasty lunch. Sometimes they spilled onto the page long after I'd reached three. The discipline of recording them helped me notice the beauty in Phnom Penh, the freedom in singleness, the joy in serving, the perks of a life that didn't always go my way. I started feeling the truth of Psalm 103:5 - "He fills my life with good things..." Not just other people's lives. God was filling my life, day by day, with evidence of His goodness.

One year later, I had zoomed past 1000 with no intention of stopping. And I'm so glad, because summer and fall 2012 contained some of the most difficult events of my life. But I felt more resilient than before the list. I started thinking at various moments, "This would be a good thing to write down for today." Voskamp describes it as a "treasure hunt." Looking for the gifts heightened my awareness that grief and fear were not the whole story, that help and hope were close at hand. It's not just in my head, either... recent findings in neuroscience back me up that gratitude makes us healthier and a whopping 25% happier.

The list came with me to America during summer breaks and when I moved back, a familiar friend in a sea of change. But despite its obvious benefit to me, it still took me years to get in the habit of writing daily. After too many times of racking my brain... Okay, now what happened last Thursday? ... I finally started keeping the journal under my pillow so I'd remember it every night. Now, it's a great way to close my day. 

I like this way of tracking time. Without a traditional diary, this is my only way to date memories. It's an excellent tool against self-pity. Recently, flipping through, I thought, Wow, ___ was already going on by #9185? That was almost a thousand gifts ago! What started out as "woe is me, I've endured this for a while," instantly turned to, "Look how God has cared for me ever since." In other cases, it's a lasting reminder of whole blissful days or remarkable answers to prayer, which my faulty memory rarely recalls unprompted. It's hard to read it without smiling.

Sometimes I write things down without actually having the gift notebook along. That was the case in Preah Vihear this summer, where I brought minimal luggage. I just wrote items down in a different notebook, without numbering them. When I returned to Phnom Penh, I recopied two months of gifts into my main notebook. Knowing I was close to ten thousand, I'd been wondering what I'd write for that one. I was trying to resist the temptation to make it something flashy, because that's not what this is about, but also hoping it wouldn't be something totally trivial like "I finally changed my oil." But no! Without tweaking the order, this ended up being #10,000: "Your promises are true: You are strong, You love me, and You answer prayer." I was in awe. Aren't those the truths that I'd seen over and over through even the smallest details of this list? 

Today I watched the Bible Project video on the book of Ecclesiastes. "'Meaningless! Meaningless!' says the Teacher. 'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.'" Apparently hevel, the Hebrew word often translated as "meaningless" (used 38 times to describe aspects of life), is actually closer to "vapor" or "smoke," in the sense of being fleeting and mysterious. Our lives are short, confusing, and often out of our control. But Ecclesiastes also celebrates "the gift of God" - enjoying simple good things in life like friendship, family, a good meal, or a sunny day. "You can't control these things, they're certainly not guaranteed to us, but that's their beauty. When I come to adopt a posture of total trust in God, it frees me to enjoy my life as I actually experience it, not as I think it ought to be." 

One minute a day isn't much. But in my quest to celebrate God's daily presence and provision as I actually experience it, it's been surprisingly powerful. 

Khmer Christians and supernatural power

Imagine you're a lay leader in a tiny church and someone wants to become a Christian. What would you do if, shortly after you prayed together, she started to levitate half a meter, rising and falling as your terrified youth group looked on? It’s not a question I had previously considered. But for some Cambodian believers, it’s reality. 

I’m continuing from a previous post discussing my teammate Jeff Hogue’s dissertation. Jeff’s qualitative study analyzes interviews with fifteen Khmer house church leaders (KHCL) from Buddhist backgrounds. Last time, I summarized their descriptions of seeking supernatural power previously as Khmer Folk Buddhists (KFB). This post will look at how they now seek supernatural power as Christians, and some implications for discipleship in the Cambodian church. Like last time... if something in here is incorrect, blame me, not him!

A note of caution before I dive in: Just like most Cambodians layer Buddhism over older animist and Hindu practices, Jeff argues that modern Western Christianity is actually a folk religion syncretized (or mixed) with Enlightenment-inspired naturalism. Naturalism tends to accept physical and scientific explanations for events and dismiss phenomena with apparently supernatural causes. Jeff doesn’t advocate blind faith in every report, but rather allowing for the possibility (alongside spurious or psychopathological causes, etc.) that it was genuine. We Western evangelicals, including cross-cultural workers, tend to encourage morality, Bible study, and philosophical explanations for pain and suffering. We believe that the supernatural realm is real but don’t expect to encounter it in our daily lives. When trouble comes, we turn first to solutions like medicine, insurance, counselors, and contingency plans: solutions that require economic power, not supernatural power. We tell Cambodian Christians that God is near, good, and listening... but our actions say otherwise. Thus, we disempower God in their eyes as a solution to their problems.

Jeff asked his interview subjects how they developed their theories as Christians on supernatural power, and they mentioned reading the Bible and praying humbly. They stated that power comes through a consistent relationship with God, and goes hand in hand with increased love for God and changed moral behavior. Unlike in Khmer Folk Buddhism (KFB), power is available to everyone in the faith community through faith and prayer. God gives power through "generalized reciprocity," not tit-for-tat: it's because he's generous and not because people have earned it or placed him in their debt. He requires his followers to give themselves to him [tvay-kluen] but not to give a constant stream of other gifts like money and food, as KFB spirits demand. 

Respondents believe that it’s always God’s choice whether to display power in a given situation. They trust that he is with them and able to care for them, with or without fulfilling their requests.

Eleven of 15 respondents indicated participation in Christian exorcisms. These are rare since most KFB adherents prefer exorcism support from traditional shamans or monks, but sometimes Buddhists seek help from Christians if others can’t banish an aggressive spirit. During exorcisms, Christians talk to the spirit(s) and the afflicted party, not to God. They speak authoritatively, achieving God’s power by invoking Jesus’ name. In addition to the Bible's teaching, a body of experiences – their own and reports they’ve heard – inform their understanding of such events.

Let's go back to the story that started this post. One respondent describes a demon empowering a woman and causing her to levitate, the night that the respondent cut her amulet waistbands and prayed with her to give her life to Christ. He was terrified but began crying, “’In the name of Jesus, demons go away,’” at which she became motionless (171-172). This experience confirmed his previous theory that amulets contain the power of spirit entities and cutting them will anger the spirits. He also cites the Bible story of Jesus calming the storm and concludes, “'I realized that God’s power is always near us. It depends on our faith whether we can realize this'” (172). On the other hand, seeing this event take place in the church made him reconsider his belief that churches were a safe haven from demonic forces. A bit like Khmer Folk Buddhist adherents' beliefs are shaped by experiences in their lives and communities, Khmer Christians need flexible theologies that can adapt based on experiences in confronting spirits.  

Waist amulet

Respondents clarified that God’s power should not be used selfishly. New believers need to know that “transformation [bomplah-bombrey] is the primary purpose of God’s power, not vengeful aggression or coercion” (176). God’s power enables us to serve others, promoting their healing and wholeness. They listed leadership, evicting demons, and healing prayers as special supernatural gifts available to believers. Most of all, God’s power flowing through a loving community enables cleansing and transformation, moving believers closer to God and to each other. Seeking God’s power is a necessary part of daily life and inseparable from seeking His presence.

As with Khmer Folk Buddhists, tranquility matters to Khmer Christians... but not as much as God’s presence. Respondents expect that they won’t always enjoy good health and happiness [sok-sabay]. They mentioned tranquility much less here than in the KFB section, where it was the primary driving value. They often mentioned God’s presence in combination with other Christian values. Therefore, Jeff identifies God's presence (in both realms - the inner self and interpersonal relationships) as the core driving value that leads Khmer Christians to seek supernatural power.

Jeff developed a theoretical framework for Khmer Christian values that parallels his framework for Khmer Folk Buddhist values. He identifies God’s presence as the core driving value, both in the sphere of people’s inner self and in their relationships. (Unlike in KFB, the second sphere includes not only close kin but a wider fellowship of believers and others.) People may interpret life events as positively or negatively affecting this core value and five component values in either zone, thus affecting their total awareness of God’s presence. Khmer Christians pursue God's power for each of these values:

1. Knowledge of God [skoal-preah] involves God speaking to people directly through Bible study, and respondents learning through experience as they pray and see God’s involvement in their lives. 
2. Protection from affliction [kapia] is a high value: respondents reported desiring protection from illness, their own sinful or hard-hearted tendencies, and malicious people or forces, all of which could disrupt their fellowship with God. 
3. Relational connectedness [tomneak-tomnong] within the faith community seemed to have the biggest effect on realizing God’s presence. Respondents described caring, interactions in the family and community promoting personal transformation and affecting both participants and outside observers. 
4. Moral transformation [bomplah-bombrey] involves the perception of personal and corporate progress toward biblically moral ways. It comes from truth in God’s word, Christian fellowship, and/or God’s activities in life. “Softhearted and morally clean people will experience God’s power and presence in greater levels” as well as “a sense of transformation in relational connections with others.”
5. Giftive service [bomraer] entails Khmer Christians mobilizing and using supernatural power on others’ behalf without needing repayment. Giftive service includes community leadership, miraculous healing, and deliverance; believers celebrate its display both in their community and in their personal life.

Khmer Christians reported seeking these values through prayer and fellowship. They evaluate the outcomes in their life circumstances, seeing each value as either realized or unanswered, and continue cycling through requesting each value and observing its presence or absence.

House church leaders whom I met in 2011 in Kratie province

In his analysis, Jeff recommends creating a strategic discipleship program that responds to the Khmer Folk Buddhist traditional [prahman-sesna] religious logic. 69% of Khmer who profess to be Christians are rapidly becoming nominal – reflecting a change, not in their stated beliefs, but in their actions and lifestyles. They don't need anyone to whip up their emotions and feign a power display from God. But they might need someone to help them reflect on the tacit values driving their decisions, comparing these values to the Bible's teachings.

KFB's concept of tranquility is highly appealing across cultures and might even stem from our biological desires. But in Jeff's view, not all the lesser values that compose tranquility are biblical (see previous post for descriptions):
Physical health - Jesus showed concern for people's health, as he healed many with various conditions and even raised the dead. On the other hand...
Emotional endurance - Rather than strictly controlling emotional outbursts, he displayed many strong emotions like joy, sorrow, and anger. 
Relational connectedness - He neglected interdependent relationships, offending those in power while pursuing low-status individuals who couldn't reciprocate. 
Enhanced prospects (upward mobility) - He taught that seeking wealth and status often conflicts with serving God and shouldn't be our ultimate goal. 
Protection from loss - "Jesus not only embraced loss, he sought it out" as the pinnacle of his ministry, and encouraged his disciples to imitate him (196).

The Hebrew concept of "shalom," seen in the Bible, overlaps somewhat with tranquility. Jeff outlines traits of shalom as found in Brueggemann's (2001) description and concludes that while certain  aspects would appeal to Khmer Folk Buddhists, there are three key distinctions:

• Shalom requires a covenant agreement with God. There can be no shalom without his presence and power.
• Shalom is meant for both individuals and entire communities or societies to experience. Tranquility, however, is primarily a private pursuit, affecting the family unit only.
• Shalom requires human effort and sacrifice, whereas tranquility relies only on supernatural power.

In KFB, people seek circumstances that reflect their values of tranquility, while spirit entities seek respect and appeasement. These purposes never align, causing Khmer to distrust the spirits. When a given source of spiritual power no longer satisfies someone's desires or demands too much of them, he moves onto a different source. Jeff names two dangers for Christians whose top priority is still tranquility: 

1. They seek tranquility through God and don't attain it. So they seek tranquility elsewhere.

2. They seek tranquility through God and attain it. Since God doesn't require gift giving or relational intensification the way KFB spirits do, they become complacent and ignore him.

Most Khmer Christians are from Buddhist backgrounds. Their values probably range from the KFB set to the Khmer Christian set, and can fluctuate wildly in various situations. But it's hard for them, especially early on, to determine their core values and motivations as they face various concerns in life.

One respondent suggested, “'We need someone in the church who can nurture [tey-reaksa] new believers. Pastors are too busy. We need a teacher [kru] to teach people how to live in God’s presence'” (203). This teacher, or discipleship coach, could pray with a young believer feeling anxious and ask probing questions to help them discern the values driving their decisions. Churches can teach on KFB and Khmer Christian values, comparing the two and pointing out tensions. They can also make extended prayer a regular part of their meetings, with discipleship coaches available to pray with others.

Christianity began in Asia Minor, but today many Khmer believers have received more spiritual input from Western Christians than from fellow Asians or Global South believers. If we as cross-cultural workers aren't careful, Christianity can seem like a Western religion tainted by our naturalist bent: a philosophical alternative to classical Buddhism, but not a practical alternative to Cambodian folk traditions. We need to constantly reflect on our biases, deeply consider a Cambodian perspective on power, and realize how much wisdom our Khmer brothers and sisters have to offer. As the Cambodian church matures, they need to develop their own theology and "assume a posture of interdependence with Global Christianity" (222). Let's not only learn from them ourselves, but pray that their unique insights strengthen the worldwide church. 

Learning all of this has been super convicting for me. What is my deepest desire: for a tranquil life, or God's presence and kingdom? How is that affecting my prayers and attitude toward life circumstances? I want to be like the sons of Korah, who know what satisfies them:

How lovely is your dwelling place, 
   Lord Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
   for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out
   for the living God."

Psalm 84:1-2

Seven things I love about my life in Preah Vihear

I’m winding down my two months in Preah Vihear town, the capital of a rural province with the same name. I came for two purposes: language immersion and helping my teammates and their Cambodian partners. My teammates run a dorm for low-income high school girls from remote villages, and I've been staying with some of their ministry partners (a family of 4 and a single), national missionaries with YWAM who live adjacent to the dorm. It's by far my longest exposure to a Cambodian home or to rural Cambodia. I have so much affection for this community, and I've learned a ton here. Here are some highlights.

Vibrant Christians.

This is my first time being around Cambodians who live off of faith-based support rather than a steady salary. It's pretty cool to see them trusting God and turning down more lucrative, secure job opportunities so they have the freedom to serve God and others full-time. I took Silat to meet my former colleague and her mom, and within five minutes Silat was asking the mom if she knew about Jesus. I've gotten to hear her and my other housemates (Sokhoeurn and Saroth) share the Gospel, pray, discuss the Bible, and worship. They inspire me! 

Two girls about to be baptized

Many of the girls at the Plas Prai dorm help teach Sunday School to nearby village kids. Ten of them requested children's Bibles last month so they can teach kids in their home villages during their school holidays. It's a joy to see the passion of these young believers. I also had the privilege of seeing a baptism. That same week, I met the father of another dorm student, and the mom of an alumna, both of whom were deciding to trust Christ after a long period of investigation. It's exciting to see God changing people's lives! 

Sunday School

While visiting a church elder and his wife, Rotana and Kamsia, I got to hear Rotana share his testimony of coming to Christ. Rotana was a wild child from a marginalized ethnic minority who dropped out after first grade. Starting in adolescence, he spent all his time drinking, smoking, and chasing women, feeling he had no value or purpose in life besides his musical talent. He liked Kamsia for a long time but she paid him no heed - she knew his character, since they became step-siblings as teens. But she had few options as a poor girl in a small village, and at 23 she was practically an old maid, so she finally agreed to marry him. Shortly afterward, he fell out of a palm tree while drunk, and broke his back. A Peruvian missionary paid his medical expenses and began to teach them both about the Bible and how to read. Ten years later, Rotana is substance-free and a man of integrity, a gifted worship leader/storyteller/preacher with a deep knowledge of the Bible, and the joy of Kamsia's life. Their faith has persevered through various financial and personal difficulties, and they volunteer extensively in their church and community.

Rotana performing for us after lunch at his house

"Plas Prai," the name of the girls' dorm, means "transform." In both the dorm and Preah Vihear as a whole, there's a lot of transformation going on. The Christian community here isn't perfect, but growth is happening. My front-row seat to this growth is what I've loved the most here!

Being a “ming.”

That means “aunt” in Khmer and it’s a common title. It’s no secret that I love kids. So it’s been great being in the same building as two of them (Sokhoeurn and Saroth's kids Ponleu – 4, and Holy – 2) and next door to another two (Sitan and Sinan's kids Sasada – 3, and Visal – 1). They all know a little bit of English from their parents and YouTube (there aren't many kids' videos in Khmer), so sometimes I speak to them in English to help them learn more.

Holy and Sasada warmed up to me quickly; Ponleu and Visal took a bit longer. But a couple weeks in, Ponleu decided that despite my limited language, I was a rational adult who might be able to help him with things like getting a snack. Now we have a great time together. Lately, all 3 older kids love pretending with me that we're cats, giving each other fish and milk. 

Ponleu is a very somber child. 

I hadn’t spent much time with young Khmer kids previously, and living here has been a great cultural learning experience. Khmer parents tend to be more permissive and hands-on with very young kids (co-sleeping, hand-feeding, showering them frequently, etc.) and then get stricter and less affectionate as the kids approach school age. There's also a bigger role for other relatives besides parents, which in this case means the unofficial "mings" (Silat and the dorm girls and me), and other family friends. Although that's not my native culture, it's obvious that my housemates are fantastic parents dedicated to helping their kids learn and grow.

Everyone wants to cuddle Holy... good thing she's an extrovert! 

An expert on Cambodian education. 

My tutor is a teacher trainer with Preah Vihear province's Ministry of Education, and used to teach middle school French. His name is Halo (insert angel pun here) and he's a gold mine of information! I’ve asked him a ton of questions about Cambodia’s education system, and he’s volunteered details about curricula and policies that I wouldn't have known to ask about. I have a feeling my teammates and I will be back to interview him at some point.

Shared meals.

Mealtime is community time here. I've heard that one of the saddest things Cambodians can imagine is someone standing alone in the kitchen eating... we sit down together daily for lunch and dinner, often with visitors. We've talked about a million different topics - some silly, some serious, some way over my head. It's been a fantastic way to bond.

We've also taught each other about foods. With no fridge and no supermarket, almost everything they make is from scratch. I've tried probably new 20 fruits and vegetables, including fresh-picked lotus roots from a friend's rice paddies. Thankfully I'm not picky, so I think most of them taste good. Being here has cemented my knowledge of certain Khmer dishes that were vaguely familiar before, and also taught me how to set out and consume a meal Cambodia-style. They sit on the floor with a mortar and pestle almost daily to grind herbs and chili peppers. Only lazy people leave soup in the pot or stir-fry in the wok... it needs a serving bowl or tray. And if they serve two dishes, you don't put both at once into your rice bowl, even if they're on different sides of the bowl. 

Silat preparing moringa, a local superfood new to me 

One day, I told the dorm mom, Sinan, "You made lunch; let me wash the dishes." She replied, "Oh, it's OK - you can kill the chickens this afternoon." She was joking, but she and Sokhoeurn really did kill and pluck two of the many free-range chickens; the kids watched the latter with excitement and confusion. We feasted that night - Cambodians don't often eat that much meat in one go, but they sure do savor it when they can. 

Ponleu ran around with a chicken head, chewing on it
and pretending it was talking.

My housemates have tried and liked many Western foods before, but they asked me to show them how to make pizza and tacos, so I learned along with them how to make tomato sauce and tortillas from scratch. We found out that you can make stovetop pizza... they don't have an oven. (Or cheese. And they asked if they could sub ketchup for the tomato sauce. So pizza might be tough for them.) In return, they showed me how to mince meat by hand (no ground meat for sale here) as well as tasty dishes like ginger chicken stir-fry and coconut curry. 

Tacos!

Frequent dance parties. 

A late afternoon with cranky toddlers? Someone’s going-away party? Saturday evening youth group? Just finished a baptism? They're all great times for a dance party. It usually includes both chicken dances – the classic American one and the trendy new Khmer one called “Farm Chicken” (see video). Other favorites are the Zumba songs we use during dance aerobics with the dorm girls, Khmer traditional dances, J.Lo’s “On The Floor,” and the Baby Shark Song (Holy loves it). I'm not always crazy about dancing, but my favorites are those with scripted moves (ex. square dancing) and those where you can just be silly. These dance parties are a great mix of both. 

Being out of the city. 

The view from Preah Vihear temple, along the Thai border 

Preah Vihear town itself is about two blocks wide and a mile long. The only time I’ve seen traffic backed up is during a political march, right before last Sunday’s election. I’m a 10-minute jog from the river and a 30-minute drive from a scenic waterfall.

Rice fields on the edge of town

In Phnom Penh, people sometimes refer to spending time “in the province” as if it’s all the same, but nobody here does that, and now I can see why. There’s a big difference between a province capital – even a small one like PV – and the rest of the province: villages with just a dozen-odd farming families each and no market. I went with Silat and two of the dorm girls to visit their families in far-away villages. I also spent a few nights in another village near the Lao border, where many people don’t speak Khmer (only Lao) because the road there from Cambodia was practically impassable until a few years ago. It’s neat to glimpse village life. 

Our hosts in Kampong Sralau village, near Laos

Fun projects.

I wasn’t sure what I’d be working on here, but it was clear that there were plenty of opportunities to get involved. I’ve really enjoyed the variety: interpreting for visitors from Australia, the US, Canada, and Burma; teaching English to the staff and some neighborhood kids; translating letters and scrapbook notes into English for the dorm girls; and helping decorate said scrapbooks.

The girls made scrapbooks to thank the dorm founder and their dorm mom 

Two events absorbed most of my attention the last couple weeks. First, I spoke to the youth group about our identity in Christ. I had an audio file with Max Lucado’s book “You Are Special” narrated in Khmer, so I asked some volunteers to create a skit based on it. That was an exciting way to relinquish control! It ended up much longer than I expected, and in the practice that afternoon, they were goofing around and kind of obscured the point. (The sad character couldn’t stop giggling.) But in the evening with an audience, they were fantastic. Since I really wanted my talk to be clear, I wrote it out and had my tutor correct it beforehand, and he even made me correct my spelling... tedious but good practice. I had volunteers read out Bible verses to explain why in Christ, we are accepted, secure, and significant (inspired by the image below).

Then last Friday, I led a seminar for the dorm girls on nutrition. They used to get an allowance that they used for both food and other expenses… but some of them had started using just 12 cents per meal and were basically only eating rice with chili and salt. So it was good to review with them why they need the fruits, vegetables, and protein sources that grow so abundantly (and cheaply, especially vegetables) in Cambodia. Researching for the seminar helped me learn about locally available sources of various vitamins and minerals. One immediate application came when my friend Silat asked me about dietary recommendations for her relatives with high blood pressure. We looked online together and translated some tips into Khmer, which she printed and took home with her last weekend. 

The girls broke into small groups to plan healthy meals.

People who want me on their sports team.

Soccer with the Christians of Preah Vihear is a very inclusive, non-competitive experience. I reluctantly joined my first soccer game since fourth grade, but found myself in a safe place to make frequent mistakes. Players range from age 10 to 35, mostly teens with less than two years' experience. They switch up the teams every week, and all the late people randomly join a side until there are 40+ players crowding the field. Apparently someone keeps score, but it's not emphasized. They all play in flip-flops or barefoot. When I wore my running shoes, they chided me that I might hurt someone's feet, and they were right. 

There’s a lot of shrieking, laughter, and broken rules. One player likes to swat the ball. One goalie likes playing near the center line. One 3-year-old fan likes wandering onto the field with an extra ball, which sometimes gets mistaken for the game ball. Many players enjoy a good mid-game chat, and most lack any ball control or strategy. (I fit right in there!) But out of the two games I attended, out of the 40-odd players, only one player standing near her goal kicked the ball far in the exact opposite direction.

That person was me.

In my defense, I was just rejoining the game after having been plowed down from behind and needing a short break. As I approached the other players, suddenly the ball shot toward me, so I reverted to my default: try to kick it straight ahead. I was next to Sina, the team captain who had chosen me, and she gave me a look. “Chelsea! What team are you on?!” We doubled over laughing, joining the ranks of preoccupied players ignoring the ball.

A few days later, at dinner with Sina, we were talking about soccer with a few others. She said I was good at it, and my explosive laughter made me spit a grain of rice onto her cheek. (Gross, sorry.) “Well,” she modified, “you’re good at playing – you’re just not very good at playing for your own team.” She and others have continued to invite me, and while I’ve declined out of concern for everyone's feet, I still feel the love.