A Night with Nunung
“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”
-Philippians 1:6
One night in Indonesia two of my teammates and I are invited by a language student named Chris to visit one of his friends in a nearby kampung, which is the Bahasa Indonesian word for village. He has been meeting with her on Thursday evenings for a few weeks now. During their time together Chris practices what he has learned of the Bahasa language so far and they talk of culture, life, and Faith.
Chris invites my teammates and me to join him one evening, certain that she will be thrilled to meet three young American women. And he is not wrong. We bump ourselves a short way down a dark, narrow, unpaved street. We step out of the car and emerge into the one source of light that is pouring from her brightly colored shop. The surprise and delight in her eyes is evident. She is glad to see not only that her friend has remembered their weekly meetings, but that he has brought three friends with him as well.
We take in all the brightly colored snacks hanging behind this now smiling woman. She wears a simple white t-shirt. Her dark hair is pulled back. We order tea and bend low to seat ourselves on the rickety wooden bench outside her small store that is attached to her home. A semi-sleepy boy stumbles out to catch a glimpse of all of the commotion. Kaffa is his name. He is her eight year old son. He is shy, but the universal high-five lures him out of his shell. Before our tea is even warm we find a bowl of baso in our laps and we indulge in this mystery meat soup that is an iconic delicacy in this part of the world.
Nunung, in traditional dress, and myself, at a Sundanese circumcision ceremony she invited our team to attend.
Finally our tea is warm and the introductions begin. Her name is Nunung. She is in her mid-twenties. She used to work at a factory in the area, but now she runs this store. She is married to a man who does photography. He is not home right now. She enjoys meeting up with her friends that she used to work with and also watching TV. We hear the TV in the background, proof that she’s telling the truth. She is a Muslim. She is a spiritual person. It is normal to talk about Faith in this neighborhood, we learn. It is respectable to be a spiritual person.
After many pleasantries are exchanged we begin to talk about god and the different and individual beliefs that we hold about who he is. Soon, a couple of men who are religious leaders in the community draw near. Nunung no longer has the opportunity to speak for herself, but is resigned to listening as the discussion continues on. However, we have come to speak to Nunung and not these men, so my teammate, Arlene, redirects the conversation back to the young listening mother and beautifully shares the story of how Jesus transformed her life. As she does, I find myself feeling inadequate, with nothing to say. So I pray silently but with a fervor that surprises me. And the tears, they burn in my eyes, and I am taken aback at how badly I want this new friend of mine to know the Hope to which she is called.
Then it’s time to go. Before we leave though, we ask if we might pray over her in the name of Jesus. She agrees and we do our best to ask God with bumbling words what our hearts are breaking for. After, we drive away in the 10pm rain that has slowly begun to fall. It’s a sad but beautiful thing driving away, never knowing if I will meet Nunung again. And in the uncertainty of what is to be, I find myself at a loss. So I do the one thing that this World Race journey has prompted me to do many times already. I lift up my hands thankful that it is He and not I that knows all the plans. And I believe in His promise to finish every good work that He has begun.
