An exciting milestone

It's my birthday today, and Dalis Chhay (my former student and current school secretary extraordinaire) just gave me an amazing present without even knowing it.

All the girls who work in the main office have been awesome at helping me practice Khmer.  When I did a month of intensive language study, I used to come to school every afternoon and chat with all the Khmer speakers, and these girls were both tons of fun and extremely helpful.  I still often chat and joke around with them in Khmer when I'm in the office. But until today, speaking was as far as it went.  

My 18 months of intermittently studying the Khmer alphabet (OK, only one hour a week) just began to pay off.  Dalis' e-mail to me is the first writing in Khmer script that's ever been addressed directly to me, and I was able to read it!

Here it is:
អរគុណបងឈែលស៊ីដែលបានជួយកែ Wednesday Updateអោយខ្ញុំ!!!

អរគុណច្រើន!!!

ដាលិស

Translated, it says: "Thank you Chelsea for proofreading the Wednesday Update (a weekly school e-mail to families) for me!  Thank you very much!  Dalis."

Simple?  Yes.  But it's the product of many laborious hours of staring, copying, sounding out, and memorizing.  And it feels like a minor miracle.

Hooray for measurable progress!  Happy birthday to me!

The beauty of forced friends

Allyson first introduced me to the term. “Forced friends, that’s all we have right now.” I had recently arrived in Montpellier, France, for the semester, along with Allyson and 30-odd other students from about 12 American colleges. Instantly we banded together to tackle challenges like buying a cell phone, navigating the tramway system, and deciphering our courses at the local university – all in French. We had to ignore major differences, because we needed each other for moral support. As time progressed, we split off into cliques based on similar interests and personalities, and integrated new acquaintances into our groups. But in those first few weeks, all we had were thirty strangers, and Allyson was tired of pretending to be friends with each of them.

I’ve often thought back to that phrase since moving to Cambodia. In France, I soon spoke French well enough to chat with local students, attend a French church, and occasionally hold deep conversations with my host family. In Cambodia, I arrived knowing four words: “yes,” “please,” “thank you,” and “white person.” Plus, I worked about 75 hours a week my first year, which has since decreased to 55 or 60. My 40-odd colleagues have been the primary people with whom I’ve lived, eaten, hung out, cried, laughed, planned, and prayed. Besides my students, my co-workers have comprised nearly my entire social circle here…not for five months, but for three years and counting.

That’s been difficult at times. In college, where I could choose from thousands of potential friends, I’m not sure I would have been especially drawn to many of my current or past housemates or colleagues. There’s too much diversity in our roots, our theology, our assumptions, our habits, our preferences. In fact, I always kind of thought I was too nice to hurt anyone’s feelings until I moved to Cambodia and offended a number of Logos people: not usually Cambodians, but fellow Westerners.  My conflicts have been fairly minor, but for many others, they run too deep to fix with a "sorry:" I've heard numerous times that the #1 reason missionaries leave the field is due to conflicts with teammates.  I haven't personally encountered that, but it's a sobering reality that I understand much better since moving here.

When you’re stuck together, there’s no room for seething below the surface. It bubbles up too quickly. And while in France, I needed buddies to help me brave shopping and studying, here I depend on these “forced friends” for my emotional and spiritual survival. We couldn’t just ignore our conflict, and I couldn’t just live alongside of them with an occasional smile or “how’s it going.” I’ve had to learn to communicate better, to practice respecting others, to live out genuine concern for others’ needs – even when in my books, they were in the wrong. I’d hear marriage advice and think, “Hey, that sounds like what I have to do…with people not of my choosing.” I’ve realized that sometimes, “neutral” is “negative:” I need to be intentional about encouraging and supporting those around me. I've realized how insufficient my natural sympathy and good-will are when others need real love, day in and day out. I'm working on letting Jesus love through me. It's gonna be a loooong process.

Already, it’s been well worth the effort. Many of those friendships that at one time felt “forced” have grown into deep, rich sources of community and joy in my life. Many people who I once had trouble respecting have gone on to teach me invaluable lessons, and to contribute to the Logos community in ways I never could have. I’d be losing out if I traded these friendships for easier, more convenient ones. I’ve learned now to be less shocked and dismayed when conflicts arise, to pray harder about them, and to hold out more confidence that God can reunite us and change hearts…mine as much as anyone’s.

Yesterday in Bible study, we looked at John 17, just before Jesus was arrested and crucified. Jesus spent his last peaceful moments praying for those who would believe in Him: “that all of them may be one,” just as the Trinity is one. He explains why: “to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” Getting along and caring about each other – not superficially, but at a heart level – often speaks louder to those outside the church than words ever could.

Someone at Bible study commented on the unity she sees among Christian organizations working in Cambodia. In contrast to other countries, where missions teams may be deeply entrenched and isolated from others after decades or centuries of work, Christian expats here largely get along with and respect other Christian organizations. It’s partly because the Christian presence in Cambodia was wiped out by the Khmer Rouge and only began to rebuild itself in 1992, when Christians were first allowed back in.  The government told the first Christian foreigners, “You can come, and you can meet for worship, but you all have to meet in the same room at the same time.”

Catholics, Pentecostals, Seventh-Day Adventists, Southern Baptists – they were all stuck together and forced to overcome their divisions. It necessitated that everyone “major on the majors” – focus on the most important issues (Jesus, the Bible, loving others) and ignore their often-insignificant theological quibbles.  Though that policy ended long ago, its positive legacy continues.  This month, Christians of all backgrounds gathered in that one room to celebrate the 20-year anniversary of their “forced friendship,” which grew into an ecumenical Cambodian Bible Society united around a common goal: Christ glorified in Cambodia. God has embedded bits of His image into each of us, in all our quirks and differences. Growing in unity is a messy and difficult process, but it’s the only way we can fully embody the beauty of our God.

Roots

It still feels like I'm going home.  I've since called a lot of places "home" - Doylestown,  State College, Phnom Penh - but Vermont has a claim on my heart that they haven't been able to sway.  After all, my parents moved there right after they married, so I was there from birth until almost thirteen.  My family pulled off a trip there a few weeks ago, straight from my grandparents' celebration in Lancaster.  It was all 6 of us plus Lucas' girlfriend Audrey, quite a feat given five people's work schedules.  Though it was my first time back in 8 years, our visit was a sweet, sweet time for us all.

Very typical VT bumper stickers.  It's not a typical VT car because it's too new to have rust from all the snow and salt.  Just give it a few years...

I was trying not to get my hopes up as we drove across the New York-Vermont border.  Sure, I remember Vermont's beauty, but it can't ALL be as gorgeous as my memories.  I must be idealizing it.  But the whole way in along Routes 7 and 100 featured the streams, lush hills, and charming small towns I had pictured.  I love that Vermont outlaws billboards and fights to keep chains like McDonald's and Wal-Mart few and unobtrusive.  Route 100 took us along the river that flooded worst during last summer's Hurricane Irene, Vermont's most devastating storm in a century.  We could still see the debris and stones scattered far up along the riverbanks, as well as some of the homes and bridges that had been destroyed.

A house near our cabin

A couple days were spent in local scenic areas like the Quechee Gorge, and one day back in Waterbury.   Our first stop in Waterbury was the Cold Hollow Cider Mill, right next to my dad's former employer.  I'd forgotten how overwhelmingly amazing it smells, and how crisp and sweet their cider doughnuts are.  They still had the same video on how a cider press works, and the same free samples of cider in tiny Dixie cups next to a huge vat of cider.

Thus fortified, we hiked the Pinnacle, between Waterbury and Stowe.  The weather was perfect: we got a bit warm on the way up, but the crisp wind at the top left us cool and refreshed.  Afterwards, we drove by our old house in Waterbury Center and stopped at the pond that we remembered so fondly.  I wandered off into the field next to it, hunting unsuccessfully for the wild blackberries and raspberries that my mom and Julia and I used to collect for pies and jam.

The view from the Pinnacle in the direction of Waterbury.
I used to go swimming in the reservoir that you can glimpse on the top left.

Julia and I took Audrey around the Ben & Jerry's factory, but we didn't actually eat there because we knew we'd be getting ice cream twice that evening.  Anyway, the factory is fun even without paying for ice cream or the official tour: you can visit the Flavor Graveyard with elegies for bygone flavors, make free spin art, and browse their fun souvenirs.

Lucas rediscovers the pond by our old house.  The bottom was as slimy as ever!

That evening, we went to visit two different families that have been close to us for as long as I can remember.  Emmett and Dee Hughletts live way up on Camel's Hump, Vermont's second-tallest mountain, in a house they built.  They and their neighbors are too far up to have a landline telephone.  Emmett used to work with my dad, and Dee got to know my mom 25 years ago, when Dee was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and wanted someone to help her find meaning in her pain.  Once a cynical atheist, she became a Christian through my mom, and says that her faith has anchored her as her health has degenerated to the point that she can no longer do stairs and needs a walker to get around.  (Emmett soon followed her, slowly returning to his Christian heritage.)

Julia and me...just call me Jerry.

Dee and Emmett adopted three kids around the ages of my younger siblings.  We used to play with them all the time...it's been forever since we've seen them, and none of them live at home now.  But the Hughletts might have first inspired my long-lasting dream of adopting.  I knew they were fun people, but I forgot that Dee has such a great "crotchety New Yorker old lady" imitation, or that she laughs hysterically at Emmett's stories that she's heard a thousand times.  He DOES have some excellent stories, I must say.  They spent a few years in Philly before we ever got to PA, and they're still die-hard Phillies fans.  They don't own a TV, but they haven't missed a game on the radio all season.

Lucas rides in Emmett's newly purchased bulldozer, bought from an elderly neighbor.  Emmett says it's a huge help in clearing fallen trees, for his own home and for neighbors, and moving firewood for their woodstove.

The Hodgdons, Brad and Pauline, were fun to see too.  Their daughter Kayla was one of my closest friends growing up, and we did many an art project together.  Now she's an accomplished graphic designer, and her younger brother Andrew just graduated film school, so clearly the art stuck better in her family than in mine.  Kayla lives half an hour away, but Andrew is home for the summer and was there with us.  I remember him as a goofy little 9-year-old with pale skin, dark hair, and bright blue eyes, running around the yard with my brothers.  Now he's 6'2", quite outgoing, a beer connaisseur moving to Massachusetts to be near his girlfriend.  It was really fun talking with him - I wish I could've watched the indie film that he and his friends just finished.  They told us more about the Hurricane Irene flooding and its impact on downtown Waterbury, less than a mile from their house.  Waterbury, like other nearby towns, has really united to rebuild and to take care of those hit hardest.  I saw "Vermont Strong" bumper stickers everywhere, even on sale at Ben & Jerry's, as a fund-raiser for flood victims.

A Ben & Jerry's flavor gravestone

Our last day, July 4, Julia and Austin had to leave for work, but the rest of us enjoyed the peaceful ambiance of the cabin to read and lay low.  After dinner, we headed to a local Independence Day celebration at Woodstock High School, eager for a reminder of small-town get-togethers.  My dad was peeved because we were running late for the bluegrass concert and we got lost on the way there.  As it turns out, we hadn't missed much - the next bluegrass band started shortly after we arrived, and the whole event was so tiny, there were about 8 booths and 60 total attendees.  Two high school girls gave us a free magazine published by their environmental protection club and told us about their trip to the Costa Rican rainforest.  I watched a tiny girl in a yellow sundress twirl around, dancing with her daddy.  We hung out for a while at the concert, waiting for the fireworks, but the band was nothing special and it looked like there was a storm brewing.  It was barely 8 PM and wouldn't be completely dark for fireworks until probably 9:30.   Just as we were making our way back to the car, the band made an announcement: in light of the impending storm, fireworks would begin in just minutes.  We were soon settled down on the blanket, watching fireworks go off against the backdrop of sunset and storm clouds.  It was pretty neat, actually, especially with the boom of the fireworks echoing against the surrounding mountains.

When I was in seventh grade, I thought I'd stay in Vermont forever, I loved it there so much.  When I found out that spring that we were moving away, it marked my transition from childhood to adolescence.  I never imagined staying in Pennsylvania forever, and within two years, I'd made up my mind that I wanted to go overseas.  Leaving Vermont freed me in some ways to think bigger, but cutting roots is never comfortable, and I realized in the next few years that my sense of identity was still tied to Vermont's values: close-knit community, protecting the environment, valuing the unusual and the creative.  Though I've spent the second half of my life far from those Green Mountains, I'm glad to still feel welcomed back, and to feel as though they've nourished me from my roots to my core.

Congrats Mamaw and Papaw!

"Waller and Nancy 60 years - what a journey!"  We made little signs to put along the road, marking kids, grandkids, hometowns, and other milestones in my grandparents' lives.  There were a lot to fit on!

Everyone wore these buttons in their honor.

Jonathan, Lucas, and Audrey sport their buttons.

Nancy (I call her "Mamaw"), an only child, grew up in St. Louis during the Great Depression with her mom, grandma, and uncle after her dad passed away when she was just two.  She dreamed of running off to New York City to join the Rockettes, but that was out of the question for "good girls."  Instead, she settled for studying at Washington University in St. Louis, where she earned a degree in modern languages: French, Spanish, and Italian.  She might have gone on as a translator for the UN if she hadn't met my grandpa and "settled down," relatively speaking.  She DID have a pretty cool job that she won't tell me much about.  Once she became a mom, she quit her job, but remained active in everything from belly dancing to quilting to the local DAR chapter, even performing a tap dance number well into her seventies at a Christmas program.

Papaw's wearing a shirt from our "Re-Cooper-Ation"
family reunion in 1992.

Waller (or "Papaw") grew up in rural Kentucky on a pig farm - it was little more than subsistence farming.  He had a pretty tough childhood, heightened by his younger brother's death, leaving just him and his sister.  But he made it to med school at Washington University, where he graduated as an anesthesiologist.  He worked for the military for a while, so they were constantly moving while their four sons were being born - Illinois, Iowa, California, finally settling down in Evansville, Indiana.  He worked loooong hours and saw enough on the job to develop a deep aversion to hospitalization.  It almost cost him his life: around age 60, he suffered a massive heart attack and waited almost 24 hours to tell anyone, out of pure stubbornness.  Nobody expected him to recover fully after his near-death experience, but a quarter-century later, while he's slowing down physically, mentally he's sharp as a tack.

We all gathered together in late June from far and near to celebrate their big day: 4 sons, 3 daughters-in-law, 9 grandchildren, and 3 grandchildren's significant others.  (A few people couldn't join us, due to their location in California, Japan, Yemen, etc.  Lame excuse, I know.)  We crammed into the "Country View Tourist Home" near their retirement community in Lancaster, PA, run by a woman named Dorothy whose copious notes on the workings of the house brought us endless amusement.  The home was replete with floral wallpaper, Bible verse plaques, and articles and photos about generations of her Mennonite relatives who had grown up in the area.  It felt like a piece of history.

We celebrated in traditional Cooper style - sarcastic joking, storytelling, and playing Frisbee, speed scrabble, and telephone pictionary - as well as with a formal dinner in Mamaw and Papaw's honor.  The dinner featured their four boys singing barbershop on an adapted version of "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" as well as an uproarious game of the Not-So-Newlywed Game, which my cousin Katie emceed.  The meal was so tasty and plentiful that over half the cake was left over - a rarity in this family, since sugar is practically a Cooper family value.  Since Mamaw was so sick on her wedding day that she could barely stomach the forkful of cake Papaw fed her, they reenacted it for us - this time in better health.

Uncle Kirk and Aunt Sally score a point for agreeing on Uncle Kirk's least favorite chore.

The weekend was over in a flash, but it was enough to remind me how blessed I am that my family loves each other.  A friend says my family is like the Cleavers from "Leave It to Beaver" - everyone is still married to their first spouse, all the adults get along with each other, and we always have fun together.  Not that my relatives haven't faced tough times, but we truly have been such a happy family by any standard.  Last week I visited Mamaw and Papaw on my own, without the chaos of swarming Coopers.  They said through sixty years, they've always loved each other and never considered ending their marriage.  That's quite a statement in today's culture, and one that I hope all of us grandkids can one day echo.  Thanks, Mamaw and Papaw, for giving your children and grandchildren a strong foundation in following God and loving your family well!

Feeding each other cake, 60 years later

Yo Han

On Wednesday, my 10th grade student Yo Han Lim was in a fatal moto crash.  Our high school has about 90 students, all of whom knew him pretty well - in fact, even most elementary students and teachers knew him.  He was just hard to miss: boisterous, outgoing, impulsive, the life of the party. 

He loved leading worship and just jamming on the guitar with friends in the hallway after school.  In French class, he would shout out vocab words when we were reviewing them and often knew them, but never bothered to learn their correct pronunciation.  He was always the first one done with quizzes, even when I made him go back and proofread, and they always had silly mistakes because he had rushed. 

In so many ways, he was an open book.  If he was frustrated with schoolwork, it was obvious.  If he was confused, he would ask me a million questions in a row.  If he was excited, he couldn't contain his enthusiasm.  So his major life transformation in 9th grade was well-known to the whole high school.

Yo Han and a classmate presenting each other in French during the French II fashion show last fall.  They went for "le look de couple."

To get to know him for yourself, here's his story in his own words.  He wrote this as a Facebook note in December 2011.

This is a story of my life from maybe second grade? But just the main events :)  hope this makes u laugh :)

So when i first came in to Logos international school it was 2003 january.  I was put in to kindergarden, and i only knew the alphabets. I studied the some english words and i was able to skip the first grade and go in to second grade. Some of the friends i met in second grade are still in 10th grade. :) kinda cool.

Little Yo Han, far left, playing with his younger brother Daehan (in the red shorts) and some Khmer friends

[...] Fourth grade was the beginning of my 'getting in trouble everyday' year. I started getting behaviour contracts and i had to get a smiley face for every class. if i got enough amount of smiley faces, we would go to pizza company and eat pizza :) We also had the thing called "flipping the cards" and everytime a student was loud or caused some kind of trouble, they had to go flip their card and first it was green then yellow then red and then the final black. black meant going to the office. well, to be exact, every week, i visited the office with a black card under my name. and in second semester of 4th grade, i was in the office more than i was in class. I wrote tons of sorry papers to teachers too. It was kinda of fun year.

Fifth grade came, and it was just a normal year. I was mean. Lots of girls hated me in fifth grade. I also fought a lot. I still went to the office. nothing really special though

Seventh grade. This would be the year i would never forget. After i got back from korea, i wanted to do all this stuff that i though was cool, such as skipping school on the day when we had a bible test. (don't judge me please :) i don't do this anymore :) ) and i was caught of course..haha and man, this was a miserable year for me. I had 3 F 2 D 2 C and 2 B's. NO A's haha. I, would like to thank my parents for being tolerant. I also had to prove my improvements to the teachers so that i don't get kicked out of Logos and at the end of that year, i did improve :)

8th grade was a little better:) it was the year of 'lets enjoy before we get in to highschool'  lots of friends, lots of fun. barelly no visiting the office and writing sorry papers.

Then i went to kenya, for the summer vacation and it brought a great impact on my life.  It changed the way i looked at things and changed my perspective on everything.

I came back for 9th grade, and i have to say that it was my favorite year so far.  OUr class Unity was really strong. Everyone worked hard. Many service trips without service hours brought our class together because we didn't go just to get service hours but out of pure heart to help the people and to show christ's love. I was able to exprience what unity was. It was just a year of everything mixed together; happiness, joy, conflicts, responsibility, unity and lots of other stuff. but it was the best year.

10th grade, started with a 'kind of quiet' and 'lets not do anything' atmosphere. I felt something was missing and so did my friends. I hope that after this break, everything will get better, and all i hope is that everything will go well in 2012.

I don't know how God will use my life to glorify him, but so far, its been great. lots of up and downs but its life. who says life is fair and who says there will be only joy. Actually, from sorrow and pain, we gain, learn, and exprience lots of things. So my last sentence would be... I don't know whats planned for me in 2012 but i trust God and i believe that God will make my 2nd semester of my 10th grade even more awesome than my 9th grade year :)

He couldn't have known how that last sentence would be fulfilled.  Ever since that Kenya trip before 9th grade, Yo Han was markedly more excited about God.  This year, he and a friend started a Friday morning prayer group, mostly praying for the student body and asking God to unite students in Christ and to bring them closer to God.  His passion spread to a number of his classmates and students in other grades.  Mourning him has highlighted the spiritual legacy he leaves us.

Performing with Logos friends during a gig downtown. 
Besides God, music was his #1 priority.

Here are a few of the other sophomores' Facebook comments about him.

From Matthew: A Man of God, A True Follower of Christ, He was and still is my friend. I look up to him and will always remember him till the day I meet him. He's now chilling with Christ and all the rest. He has shown me so much and encouraged me through my problems. He showed me that change in one's life really does happen because it happened to him...
I'm glad I had a friend like you, Yo Han Lim

From Becca:Yo Han, you are amazing.  You taught me how to talk about problems instead of keeping them all inside.  I want to be just like you.  I had such a great time playing music with you.  Whenever something goes wrong while we were playing music, you would look at my face and we would telepathically communicate and fix the problem, letting the song end so perfectly awesome!  As we have grown together and studied in the same class for over 10 years, I have seen many changes in you, GREAT changes.  God really DOES have a plan for you and I hope he has a great plan for me too.  I WILL miss you from time to time but I know that I WILL meet you again.

From Moses: "I have the hope in God that in the end, I will be in a perfect relationship with Him and that I will be in His perfect kingdom praising God...I learned that I should have faith in him and preserve in every hard situation believing the fact that He is working in my life, in areas I cannot see and that He has everything planned for life."
-Part of Yo Han Lim's Bible essay about faith-
Yes, Yohan. I am sure that you are in His perfect Kingdom praising God.
Yes, Yohan. God had everything planned for your life.
Actually, His plan for you is in progress.
Because, God will still carry out wonderful miracles to the world, through your death.
Yohan, see you soon up there.

From Kristi, a teacher: When I walked into school Friday morning the Khmer cleaner on the 4th floor (who only speaks Khmer) was looking at the pictures of Yo Han Lim and asking what happened. I told her that he had died in an accident. She was really upset and said that he used to help her clean when he noticed it was hard for her. She said he also prayed for her when she was going through difficult things. This is the guy who John Roberts had to teach how to sweep in 8th grade. The testimony of Jesus working through his life just doesn't end.

Last but not least, Gabie, a student who moved back to the Philippines, posted his chat with her from a while back.  These are Yo Han's words to encourage her:

Gabie, i Sincerly sincerely hope that God will not only get you fired up for Him but bring you to a point where you realize „This is the amazing God that i am worshiping and this is the God that I am calling on to,“ The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction. – Proverbs 1:7  I hope this verse can be your starting-offf verse.  To fear the Lord, not to be scared but consider him as the almighty one that deserves all the glory from you!  I will pray for you too! Hope you grow stronger in Christ and there will be times of trouble for you and everyone but having patience and faith in the Lord that he will pull you through it.  God will show you things thats beyond your imagination , He will work in your ways that you never imagined and always stick to this verse whenever you question God of what he is doing in your life and circumstances that you are in that God has put you in to be the light. „For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neithe are your ways my ways,“ declares the LORD. And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine –Isaiah 55:8

God loves you GABIE!

Besides Kristi, all these comments are from students in 10th grade.  I get to work with them.  How incredible is that?  I can't wait to see Yo Han's prayers for his classmates continue to be fulfilled through the tragedy surrounding his death. 

In Korean: "Lord, I love you!  :-)"

Jesus wept

I’ve cried a lot since I found out Thursday morning that Yo Han Lim, one of my tenth grade students, had passed away in a moto accident.  Sometimes I was crying for his family, sometimes for Logos students, sometimes for myself.  Sometimes I didn’t even know why I was crying. 

One thing’s for sure.  I wasn’t crying for Yo Han.  Everyone who knows Yo Han knows how much he loved Jesus and how dramatically God has changed his life in the past two years.  We know he’s having the time of his life in heaven.  He was just talking with another teacher, Tim Jones, this weekend about how much he was looking forward to heaven and what an amazing adventure it would be.  I’ve loved reading students’ posts about that.  "Have fun!  See you soon!"  One said when we get there and join Yo Han, he’ll talk faster than ever, so excited to tell us what we’ve been missing out on.  No, Yo Han doesn’t need any tears, because he’s happier now than he’s ever been. 

But I was crying nonetheless.  As I thought about why, I was so thankful to be reminded of a Bible passage I studied earlier this spring.  Some friends and I have been studying the book of John, including chapter 11, where Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.  A lot of people know one verse from that chapter, just because it’s the shortest verse in the whole English Bible: “Jesus wept.”  But I’d never really looked at that verse till we studied it.

First, let’s set the scene.  Jesus is good friends with three siblings - Mary, Martha, and Lazarus - but he’s in another town when Lazarus becomes deathly ill.  So Lazarus’s sisters send a message telling Jesus, “Lord, the one you love is sick,” but Jesus stays put for two days before he heads to their town.  When he arrives, Lazarus has already been buried for four days. 

Mary goes out to meet Jesus as he arrives, and she collapses in utter grief and says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  What were you thinking?  You could have saved him!  Don’t you care?  Aren’t you powerful?

Jesus sees her weeping, surrounded by a crowd of weeping friends, and “he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”  And…here it comes…Jesus wept.  He weeps right along with them.

What the heck?!  He knows, far better than any of them, that death is NOT the end of the story – that by leaving earth, Lazarus gets to arrive in his real home, the place where his heart is fully satisfied.  He even knows that in just a minute, He’s going to bring Lazarus back to life on earth.  (Did Lazarus even want to come back?  No one ever talks about that part.  My theology here is quite hazy, but I’m hoping Lazarus didn’t consciously arrive in heaven yet, because earth would be such a huge letdown after a taste of heaven.)  They’ll watch Lazarus walk right out of the tomb.  Mary’s tears will turn to laughter.  Their friends’ mourning will yield to shock and delight.  Just one more minute till the sorrow is over!  Jesus knows that.  He could even forego the crying bit and skip ahead to the “raising from the dead” part.  So why on earth is Jesus weeping?

It’s because He loves us.  Jesus wept because when He became human, loving people started to hurt him just as much as it hurts us.  He wept because it broke his heart to see Mary and Martha so overcome with grief.  He wept for all of us humans, for the burdens we carry because of sin and death.  The broken relationships.  The things left unsaid.  The fear and jealousy and selfishness and bitterness.  The sickness and warfare and heart-wrenching pain.  We were helpless against it all, and He felt its weight firsthand with his dear friends Martha and Mary.  He wept because it’s so hard for us, this “being human” stuff, and His heart goes out to us.  And He wanted us to know that He knows, He really KNOWS what it feels like to lose someone you love dearly. 

A couple verses later, Jesus is at the tomb, asking Martha for an act of faith.  “Take away the stone.” 

“It’s going to stink in there,” she protests. 

But He tells her, “If you believe, you will see the glory of God.” 

They take away the stone from the tomb’s entrance and Jesus prays, “Father, thank you that you always hear me.  Please let them know it and believe that you sent me.”  He calls, “Lazarus, come out!” and Lazarus does, very much alive and well.  But Jesus is thinking bigger than just his friend walking and talking again.  That’s good news indeed, but He wants to spread bigger and better news.  God is good!  God is powerful!  God is about to rescue you, the human race!  Wake up, people, and behold God's glory!

Lazarus’ story is a hint of Jesus’ power against death.  But Lazarus wasn’t immortal after that.  After however long, he had to die all over again.  The dying process probably wasn’t comfortable.  His sisters and friends probably missed him just as much the second time around.  His resurrection in John 11 was a temporary fix to a universal problem: Our bodies don’t last.  They’re like tents, as 1 Corinthians 15 says, that can’t hold our souls forever. 

The bigger and better news comes a few chapters later.  As Jesus is crucified, all those burdens we’ve carried from sin and death weigh heavy upon him.  The broken relationships.  The things left unsaid.  The fear and jealousy and selfishness and bitterness.  The sickness and warfare and heart-wrenching pain.  All the sources of his tears with Mary and Martha, he battles against their full force.  His last words were, “It is finished” – the battle was won. 

Two days later, we meet another Mary outside a different tomb – Jesus’ own.  She too is weeping... until she sees angels where Jesus’ body should be.  Just then, a gardener appears: Jesus in disguise.  This time, instead of joining in, He asks her, “Why are you crying?”  He knows well the ache in her heart, but it’s time to announce that those burdens have lost their ability to paralyze us.  They remain for us while we are on earth, and they may weigh on us for years and years, but they are only a shadow of their former selves. 

So now, we're living between Lazarus' first resurrection and our final one.  Relationships still break, but they can be mended, and our most important relationship is assured.  We've been given peace that can daily replace our fear, our jealousy, our selfishness, our bitterness.  Sickness and warfare still claim lives, but our goodbyes to those we love are only for a while, because in the span of eternity, the longest lifetime is soon over.  When we lament to God, Where are you?  Don't you care?  Aren't you powerful? we know the answers can be found at the cross.  And when we leave earth, God promises to wipe away every tear, because there's no room for death and mourning and crying and pain in our new, joy-filled lives with Him (Revelation 21).

Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?
-1 Corinthians 15:55

Your tears are over, Yo Han.  Mine will be too when I see you soon.

Coopers in Cambodia

My parents came to visit in April, during Khmer New Year.  It was a long-awaited visit; finally their time off work, the frequent flyer miles, and my holiday all coincided.  For months before that, I was filtering everything I experienced through the lens of “What will my parents think about this?”  Things that had become normal sights for me suddenly struck me afresh.  And so when they came, I was eager for them to encounter my world – from everyday Phnom Penh to the ins and outs of Logos to the countryside where we visited.  They came equally eager to take it all in.  Their first impressions are some of my most lasting memories from their visit.

Our first full day together, we took the bus up to Siem Reap to see the Angkor Wat temple complex.  Why was I not surprised that while waiting for the bus to arrive, my dad made friends with a Dutch family standing near us and proceeded to chat with them for the next half-hour?  Nor was it a shock when he asked for a fried cricket at the first rest stop, pronouncing it "not too bad."  (It reminds me of a potato chip, as long as you don't look at it.)  My parents got a solid introduction to traditional Cambodian music and dance since music videos were played during the entire six-hour trip...there weren't enough DVDs to last the whole time, so they played a few twice.  They were not especially eager for more.  Khmer music has grown on me; there's some that I love, but on the whole I find that it's not my favorite either.

In Siem Reap, they fell in love with the night market, which amused me because they realized that vendor after vendor had the exact same wares, but they didn't realize that other markets had more variety.  It's baffling to a lot of foreigners how Cambodian stores or vendors tend to carry whatever their neighbors carry.  In Phnom Penh, there's a street where every shop sells wicker furniture, a street lined with toilets, a street for stuffed animals.  Every shop is nearly identical.  But this market was especially limited; it had almost nothing beyond T-shirts and jewelry.  My mom says she'd love to see vendors taught some marketing strategies and ways of distinguishing themselves from neighboring stalls, like selling banana desserts instead of plain bananas.  My parents thought of several potential niches for ministry.  I'm so not a visionary - I prefer to implement what others have thought of - but I love hearing new ideas.

Angkor Wat was of course great.  Not for nothing is it considered an ancient wonder of the world!  I enjoyed the lush greenery in between the temples, some of which are about a mile apart.  And it's mind-boggling to see what humans were able to accomplish with essentially no technology besdies the wheel.  Still, my dad and I got into a cool conversation with a Khmer-American Christian guy who's ministering in inner-city LA.  He says it's heartbreaking to him that ancient Cambodians endured this backbreaking labor for so many decades when it has no lasting purpose.  Modern-day Cambodians point to it as the nation's crowning achievement, but their country has not made significant progress since that time, instead being oppressed by neighbors or squandering its resources.  My dad agreed: as impressive as it is, it's built to honor long-dead kings and a religion (Hinduism) that Cambodia stopped practicing soon after its completion.  It doesn't seem to benefit Cambodia (besides the tourism it brings) in proportion to the massive sacrifices Cambodians made to build it.  

Angkor Wat was crowded with Khmer and Thai tourists, since both were on holiday while we were there.  There were even thousands of Thai people in red shirts who came especially to show their support for former Thai prime minister Thaksin, who received amnesty in Cambodia and became an adviser to the Cambodian government my first year (2009) after being ousted by his own government and charged with numerous shady dealings.  But the ones who made the biggest impressions on my mom were the monks.  There was a group of 30+ monks, among them many boys as young as 6 or 8, who passed us right as we were leaving.  My mom literally gasped aloud.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "I knew monks took in little kids, but it's so hard to see them in real life."  Many poor Khmer families send their young boys to monasteries because they receive a free education.  Some monks are very honorable; others are quite corrupt and mistreat or even abuse the children.

Back in Phnom Penh after the holiday, I was busy teaching, while my parents ran programs each morning for elementary students.  (My mom runs the children's programs at our church, so they've got experience.)  I wish I'd had time to go watch them, but I was at least around to help set up and hear stories after each session.  They did Walk through the Bible, an interactive presentation of the central storyline of the Bible, with older elementary, and ran Wednesday's chapel for lower elementary, which involved lots of silliness.  It was neat that they had their own experiences at Logos that didn't involve me.  When we were in the cafeteria during elementary lunch, kids I'd never noticed before were grinning and calling, "Mrs. Cooper!  Mr. Cooper!  Thank you for teaching us!"  The fourth-graders wrote some pretty spectacular thank-you notes afterwards.  My parents didn't really get to know any of my students, except Krumm and Veassna, who graduated last spring and are now interning at the guesthouse where my parents stayed.  However, they got to come to the middle/high school chapel led by my homeroom, the juniors.  That was cool for me that my parents could see my students in action, leading worship music, MC'ing a goofy game, and telling brief stories about how God has changed their lives. 

That weekend, we went to visit my friend Sovannary's brother, who has a banana plantation two hours outside Phnom Penh.  That involved a lot of firsts:
our first time picking mangoes using what looked like a lacrosse stick with an 12-foot-long handle...
their first visit to a traditional Cambodian wooden house on stilts...
their first conversation with a man wearing only a krama (large cotton scarf) around his waist...
their first interaction with people who spoke literally no English...
their first time showering out in the open.  (Men wear boxers; women wear a sarong, like a loose cotton dress.) 

Sovannary brought along her mother, her husband, and her two daughters; her brother lives with his wife and three kids, plus his in-laws; nearby nieces and nephews and neighbors galore clamored to catch a glimpse of the barangs (French/white people).  And since we rented a taxi van to get out there, the driver hung out with us too.  So there was always a crowd around us. 

One of my favorite moments was during dinner, when we found out that the guys had been banished to the ground level, beneath the house, so they could drink beer.  (Sovannary knew we were Christian and didn't know if we'd be offended by beer.)  My dad asked if he could go down and drink beer with the guys, so for the next 45 minutes, they hung out together, relying on Sovannary's husband's hesitant English and lots of laughter.  I also loved seeing my parents bond with Chrismoon and Elizabeth, Sovannary's daughters, ages 7 and 8.  They're really good at English and huge teases - especially Elizabeth, who's quite the ham.  But even Chrismoon warmed up to them.  Me, I preferred practicing Khmer with the nieces and nephews, ages 3 to 11, and the two grandmas, none of whom spoke English.  That night, my parents got one of the beds (no mattress - just a bed frame and some blankets) while I was assigned to a woven bamboo mat on the floor with the two grandmas.  Why both grandmas?  I don't know!  One of them lived there with her husband, and their double bed was inches away from the mat we three shared, which was a hair smaller than the bed.  Somehow I managed to sleep in those close quarters, probably because it was amazingly cool there compared to the city and had great ventilation - no windows, just openings in the walls.

Of course, all too soon, my parents had to head back.  I knew it would be too short for them to meet all the people and do all the things I'd hoped they could.  Still, they packed a lot into their 12 days here!  I'm really looking forward to talking more with them about Cambodia this summer.  It's so nice that they've seen my world here and can relate more than before.  And I think it'll take us a while to unpack all the experiences and impressions that accompanied their visit.