Month Eight.

As we head into month eight we're starting to realize, we're stuck in a rut!

I haven't written in a while. I'm at the point were this is life.

It's not up, it's not down. There are no more phases.

I'm sure there are more things to learn and discover, but we're too broke to experience any of it.

My days are long. Starting before dawn with running through the neighborhood with every other person in Cambodia, because it is the only time that it is cool enough outside.

Then it is school school and more school. There are SMs I read about that don't work so much and they have free time to do all theses things. I don't know what that is like.

After school there is grading and more working and students that need help and want to hang out and soccer games to watch and food to scrounge up. There isn't a lot of variation.

The same jokes get made, the same students cause trouble.

Some days it feels like the only adventure that is had is trying to cross the road.

There are both downsides and upsides to this.

I like routine, I like knowing my schedule, knowing what I need to do.

I like feeling at home, comfortable, in a world that is not naturally mine.

I get e-mails sometimes saying, you're in Cambodia! Thats so cool! Such an adventure.

Oh yeah, huh?

Missions aren't always exciting, the exciting part comes in seeing Jesus by your side every step of the way.

That is probably the best upside I can think of.

And All Will See, How Great.

I have always been skeptical of the modern day demon-possessed-person story.

I think it has something to do with the culture I come from. It's not really talked about in church, I've not personally known anyone to really have experiences like that.

Of course many of the miracles Jesus performed had to do with demon possession, but in modern day America it doesn't fit so much.

In Cambodia it's a different story. The Laos boys are from tribes in Laos and they have told us stories about their tribes. Stories that just blow me away! For example, when babies die they bury them upside down or else the spirits will come back and cry. They've told us about hearing the dead babies cry, and a man that turned into a tiger.

A few weeks ago we were at Ann's house for lunch. After clean up had finished we were sitting around talking and Braden Pewitt was telling us about people in Mondolokiri province where they are serving. He and his family live with the Pnong tribes people, and they have some AMAZING stories.

Braden told us about Chief God and struggles they have had rewriting the Bible so Pnong people could relate and understand.

The following story is from their blog on the AFM website. It's long, I know. Just read it.

By Braden Pewitt, Feb 1, 2011

"She’s a crazy woman! She’s been screaming day and night since she arrived,” the Pnong woman told me.

I glanced across the hospital room at the young woman writhing on the bed. Her screams were unsettling to say the least. “Ahhhhh! Help me!” She kept pointing around the room. Then she would fall back on the bed and moan words that seemed to be part of a tragic story only she could understand. I watched her roll over and vomit into a bedpan. Then she sat up and started crying, pointing, and yelling again.

I had come to the hospital to check on another patient, but I could hardly hear his weak voice over the woman’s wails and moans. I placed my hands on the elderly Pnong man and prayed for him, but all the while I was also silently praying for the ranting woman. The sick man and his wife nodded their heads in appreciation as I ended my prayer. They were relatives of our friends in Boan Village and had heard many strange stories of Chief God, and they had specifically asked for me to come. They wanted to invite Chief God to be present. But the longer I spoke with them, the louder the woman across the room seemed to get.

She is being harassed by demons, I thought as I glanced her way. What should I do? The Pnong couple watched me as I took out my phone and looked up a number. My mind was whirling. I can call Jane, the American nurse. She is a Christian and will come and pray for this woman. But then I put the phone back in my pocket.

“She’s been like this for days,” the Pnong woman told me. “She has lost her mind. She goes on like this all through the night. Her husband can do nothing. See their little boy is sitting with her now. Poor child! He is helpless.” I continued praying silently, begging God to show me what to do. I could call Sabay, the Global Mission Pioneer, I thought. He could come and pray for this woman. I need help. I need someone else here for support. This is scary.

I once again pulled out my phone and looked through the numbers. My mind didn’t seem to work right with all the noise pounding my head. I’ve got to do something. I’m scared. What should I do? I shook my head in dismay and said out loud, “I feel sorry for the woman and her husband and child.” Then I put the phone back in my pocket and put my arm around the Pnong man’s shoulders. “I’m going to leave now, but I want you to know that you can talk with Chief God anytime.” He nodded his head in appreciation and thanked me with a warm handshake. Then I stood to my feet and faced the situation in front of me. Oh my God, please take over. Please be near.

The woman’s young husband had just returned from a shower and was still drying his hair with a towel when I reached his side. He had an open, innocent face. I stooped down and put my arm on his shoulder. The woman had been yelling in Khmer, so I addressed him in the same language. “How long has she been like this?” I asked over her wailing.

“She had seizures several years ago,” he replied, “but then she was normal. Now she’s been doing this for a week, night and day. We brought her down in a truck two days ago, but the doctor’s haven’t been able to do anything.” His uncertain smile revealed a dark fear and helplessness that clung to him.

I looked him straight in the eyes before speaking. “Sometimes these things can’t be cured with medicine. Sometimes spirits of evil come, and the only thing we can do is talk with Master God. He is the only One who can help. Would you mind if I prayed for your wife?”

He smiled and stood to his feet. I stood with him and we both looked down on the woman who was now waving her arms and crying loudly. He looked back at me with searching eyes. “Please pray for her. She needs help.”

I sat down beside the woman on the bed, placing my hand on her shoulder. She continued flailing both arms and squirming as if in terrible pain, all the while wailing and crying. I started praying, but my prayer was soon drowned out by her voice, which grew louder and louder. Her husband reached out and tried to restrain her, but she squirmed all the more and yelled louder. I kept praying, but no one could hear a thing. Suddenly, she reached down and grabbed the bed pan, nearly filled with urine and vomit. Still lying on her back, she raised it up above us. I tensed, knowing it was about to come down all over us. Her husband quickly grabbed it and placed it safely on the floor. “This man is going to pray for you,” he told her.

I realized he didn’t even know I had been praying, so I began again, trying my best to be heard over her loud cries. “Our Father, I ask You now to be with this woman who is sick. We don’t know what to do for her. She seems to be in a lot of pain. At this time, I ask You to give her rest. I ask...” Suddenly the woman became calm, and her cries died away. I continued praying as her arms settled at her sides, and she stared blankly at the ceiling. “I ask You, Master God, to chase away any evil spirits that may be bothering her. Chase them away and allow her to rest. Oh Master God, we thank You for being here with her right now and for helping her husband, too.” At this, the man grunted in agreement, and his hands loosened on his wife’s arms. “In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.” I left my hand on the now calm woman and looked up into the young man’s eyes. “Master God is helping your wife,” I explained with an excited smile. “He is allowing her to rest now. We can thank Him!” The young man was speechless with confusion and amazement. “You can pray to Master God anytime. He will hear you, for He loves people so very much.”

Looking up at me, the husband said, “I don’t know how to pray.”

I smiled again. “You just talk and tell Him anything you want, and He will hear you.”

I dismissed myself and went to check on another patient, but I could hardly hold back the tears of joy and thankfulness that were about to spill out. My God, my God! I prayed silently as I walked down the hospital sidewalk, “You have revealed Yourself in a powerful way. Thank You for this miracle.” Never in my life had I seen a miracle of this kind. I had grown up with stories of Jesus and Peter and Paul, but I had never actually seen it happen in front of me. I was overcome with joy that I had stood in the very presence of God as He used His own great power to release a woman bound by forces of darkness. I had seen a real miracle! God was here! God was here!

After a short visit in another hospital room, I walked back the way I had come, basking in God’s Glory. He was so near. All I could do was praise Him over and over again and wipe the tears that trickled down my cheek.

The young husband came out to me as I neared the room. His smile was radiant. “She’s sleeping! She’s sleeping!” He proclaimed. “Look at her. She’s sleeping! Thank God! Thank God!” I stood next to him with my arm around him, looking down at his peaceful wife. I squeezed him and repeated his words, “Thank God, Thank God!”

He then turned to me and asked, “What is this God’s name? Is it Jesus? What do I call Him?”

“You can call Him Jesus,” I said. “You can also call Him Father, or Biggest God, or Master God.”

His face lit up. He clung to the last name. “I’ll call Him Master God!”

I smiled, “That’s a great thing to call Him. There are many other gods that don’t have as much power who often hurt us or make us sick. But we can always turn to Master God, for He loves us so much and longs to help us. And He has the power to drive away all spirits of evil who wish to harm us. Master God is such a wonderful God!”

The young man stood there beaming and nodding his head. Then he said, “I would like you to have our phone number. We’re going home today. We live in the northern district of this province. We would love for you to come and visit us in our home.” I suddenly remembered Sabay went north twice a month to encourage a small group of believers there. Turning again to the young man, I said, “Before you leave, let me introduce you to someone.” I immediately took out my phone and dialed Sabay.

Sabay is a young Khmer man in his twenties. He and his wife have left friends and family to share the Gospel message in the hill country of Cambodia. We consider them fellow missionaries. He soon joined us in the hospital room. Onlookers filled him in on the story as he sat down on the bed beside us. He placed his hands on the woman and looked tenderly at the husband. He seemed to connect with the young couple immediately. “I would like to explain that neither Braden nor I have any power to help your wife,” he began in much better Khmer than I could ever dream of using. “But God Most High, Master God, is helping your wife. He loves people so much and has great power to help. I would like to talk with Him again.” Then Sabay prayed a beautiful prayer asking God to continue helping the woman and her family. The crowd of onlookers grew as he continued praying.

I could tell that Sabay was deeply moved by the palpable presence of God. It was as if in that moment the Lord spoke to me and said, “Braden, I’m doing this for Sabay as well. And I’m doing this for you.” I suddenly realized God was at work in every heart watching. I thought of the Pnong couple across the room witnessing this great miracle. “God,” I whispered. “Please continue to work! We are listening. We are open for You. Reveal Yourself!”

As Sabay made arrangements to visit the family in a few days, I realized my presence was no longer needed. I hugged the young man one last time and assured him I would keep praying. He was nearly dancing with joy. A few hours later, Sabay helped them into a truck headed north. “By then the woman was completely normal,” he told me later. “They were praising God.”

When I told Johanna the story, I suddenly choked up. “The woman kept looking around the room and pointing,” I tried to explain through my welling emotion. “But she didn’t seem to be pointing at any one person. She never looked at me directly. She kept pointed at something to my left. But there was no one there. She kept crying out, ‘Teacher! Oh Teacher! Please help me! Please help me, Teacher!’ It was Him sitting next to me she saw. It was Him she was calling to. He was sitting next to me.” Then the tears came in a torrent.

May my God always remain next to me! Oh, how I long for the day when I can see Him, too!

It's different when you're close. When you know people. When you can see God clearly working.

How great is our God.

If you want to read more of their stories go here, http://www.afmonline.org/missionaries/news.php?type=FTM&id=23

A blog about sneezing.

I remember sitting in the SM class spring quarter last year talking about cultural things. We were asked about cultural things that were odd about Americans. I remember thinking thats silly, we don't do anything strange.

Oh boy. Did I have some lessons to learn.

For example. Sneezing. When someone sneezes, you say what? Bless you. Thats right.

Not in Cambodia. Which, I mean, it's totally a strange to do to begin with. Why do we do that? Why wouldn't the person who sneezed just say excuse me? That seems much more reasonable.

But yet, when you're in a culture that doesn't do it, you miss it. It's comfort.

So in my classroom, when ever anyone sneezes I say, bless you! I never said, this is what you should do. I just did it, because thats what I know.

Then one day a few weeks back in the middle of class while writing on the board, I sneezed. I continued writing as if nothing as happened and then I hear from behind me, bless you.

I froze. WHAT?! Noreak. This kid... This kid is a character. But he was so proud of himself. And I was proud. I spent the rest of the period smiling.

They noticed how happy it made me.

Now they say bless you. They say it when I'm standing there, and they say it when they don't know I'm listening.

The other day Vatanak sneezed and I saw him out of the corner of my eye look at me expectantly. And when I didn't say anything, he fake sneezed. And when I still didn't say anything. He said loudly, Bless meeeeeeee!

This week we were reading the Beatitudes. I gave them a Khmer copy and an English copy and we were talking about it in class, blessed are those, blessed are those. Pro-tiem-poh. Pro-tiem-poh.

I asked, who can bless you?

Students: God?

Teacher: Can people bless you?

They wavered... And I knew the question that was coming. --What about when we sneeze? You bless me then... And you're not Jesus...?

So we wrote one more Beatitude. You're blessed when you sneeze. Because it's polite.

"You are blessed when you're content with just who you are- no more, no less. Thats the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought."

Verse 6.