Pho: /fuh/
noun
a type of Vietnamese soup, typically made from beef stock and spices to which noodles and thinly sliced beef or chicken are added.
Dude. I’ve had so much pho-n so far in Vietnam. The views are pho-nomenal. I will remember this place pho-ever.
But pho real. I’ve had pho everyday. I’m not even mad about it. It’s delicious.
Upon arrival to Ho Chin Minh city, I cried. A lot. For a lot of reasons, too. It was overwhelming to arrive in Asia, and it wasn’t so much because of the culture shock.
Africa was hard to say goodbye to. It hadn’t really sunk in that I called the continent “home” for three months and already I had to say “goodbye.” That was a hard concept to grasp. The World Race has a way of doing that, though. It has a way of making you so very thankful for the simple things. It has a way of making you realize the simple things are actually not simple at all.
Traveling to Asia was no easy task, either. For about a 24-hour period I had a really sour attitude when it came to my logistics role. My most natural reaction to opposition is frustration. I wish I gravitated toward grace more naturally, but that’s just something I have to work on. I wish I chose joy more easily, but that time will come. In order for those wishes to come true, however, opposition must be faced. So here I am, learning the lessons I asked for. Praise God? Yes, praise Him in deed.
So we arrived to Ho Chin Minh and I had way too much going through my brain as our van crossed the Vietnamese streets with an unfamiliar language blaring through the speakers and a whole new culture to get used to. I cried. Because the goodbye that had taken place 48+ hours previous was now official. I cried. Because the hello that was taking place was a long-awaited dream come true. I don’t think the feelings I felt have a proper name. And my vocabulary isn’t mature enough to accurately describe it. But it was a combination of deep sadness and deep joy. Bittersweet intensified.
Once my tears dried and my sleep-deprived body rested, we ventured out into what would be our home for the next month. It’s odd how the unfamiliar can seem so familiar. If I’m honest, I haven’t experienced culture shock. For me, it’s all mental. It’s like my brain knew I would be traveling through different continents, and decided to accept willingly and embrace it rather than put up a defense. I suppose it’s that way because of a lot of prayer. When you’re covered in prayer, the unfamiliar is all too familiar.
Vietnam is teaching me about grace. Amazing grace.
At the tail end of Africa, I started reading the book of Hosea. I’ve read it once before, and I knew it was a book about unrelenting love, but this time when I read it, I was struggling to find the love.
It’s a harsh book. It’s a convicting book. God shows Hosea how the people of his time turn away from the goodness that God promises. Again. And again. And again. God vents His frustration with His people. Yet He tells Hosea to marry a prostitute and uses Hosea’s life to show us how to chase after the things you love. Even when it doesn’t make sense.
And not long after, He sent Jesus to die for all of our faults and failures.
That does not make sense. The human race has a track record of running away and giving Jesus a bad rep. We worship idols, we put things before Him. That’s what we do. But God still promises us good things and offers us eternity with Him.
Why? It makes no sense? Why would He do that?
Because Love exists apart from reason. Love doesn’t act according to logic. Reconciling Love is a love that goes again and again in spite of feelings.
It doesn’t make sense, but it’s a reality for us. Because of that scandalous, Amazing Grace.
We use the lyrics to teach English to Pastors here in Vietnam. Some of these men have served time in prison and suffered rejection and severe persecution for their faith. These men love Jesus. With EVERYTHING. These men are so kind. They are so full of life. They love to learn.
I am their teacher, but they are the greater teachers.
As I sit each morning to break down the English words of “Amazing Grace” it dawned on me what this song is all about.
I grew up in America where I don’t have to fight too hard for my faith. I grew up in a Christian home, which I am grateful for, please don’t get me wrong here. But beautiful songs like “Amazing Grace” were spoon-fed to me in church and beautiful verses like “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” were just words on a page to be memorized for that “A” in Bible class.
But as I sit across from men with scars on their skin and minds set desperately on Jesus, I teach them
“My chains are gone
I’ve been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood, His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing Grace”
And what Amazing Grace it truly is. To be handed the invitation into His Kingdom. To be handed the invitation to grow up learning about Him. To be given the invitation to live out my dreams. To be given the invitation to come on the Race. To be given the invitation to live in Vietnam. To be given the invitation to say “yes.”
“Many are called, but few are chosen.” Matthew 22:14
We are all called, but in order to be chosen, you must say “yes.”
Just say “yes” to His glorious, gracious invitations.
