The crescent moon lit up the dark sky as the stars began peeking out of the clouds. The surprisingly cool breeze of the night was refreshing. The dazzling yellow lights inside attracted many unwanted flies and mosquito’s. Most days we are immune to the feeling of bugs landing on our sticky skin all the time. Other days, when our patience is lacking, the little suckers quickly find out they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was 8:24 pm. Our American noise level was no match for the pounding music outside our house. The upbeat, Khmer music intrigued our ears. Our ears led us through the french doors, outside to a Cambodian wedding. Twenty steps later, we arrived at the front of the tent. Some of us were wearing dresses, others shorts and t-shirts. Some had shoes, others were barefoot. Some had showered that day, others waited a couple days too long. In other words, some of us looked like hot messes while others looked like hobos.
Two elegantly framed paintings of the bride and groom stood in front of the white tent with elaborate red ribbons laced across the sides. A Cambodian man wearing tan pants and a button down coat began speaking to me in French, gesturing towards inside. After explaining we were American, the man laughed then ‘congratulated’ us into the wedding. We walked in between white cloth tables stacked high with dirty plates and empty beer cans. Keeping our hands together as we rested our chins on the top of our fingertips, we bowed to everyone who was mesmerized by our presence.
Women in the most elaborate, colorful Khmer dresses led us to an empty table. After cleaning up the last guests mess, we were soon surprised to see the chefs bring out mounds of traditional Khmer food, water bottles, and Angkor beer cans. As the powder-faced women expressed their genuine gratitude for us coming, we realized the mother-of-the-bride was the one serving us. Her joyful smile revealed the perfectly aligned, white teeth. She served with such humbleness and joy. She had no idea who we were, or what we were doing at her daughter’s wedding, but she treated us like royalty. She was beyond blessed to be able to give. This woman, elegantly dressed in the most beautifully beaded white dress, was serving us; a bunch of dirty, shoeless teenagers.
After turning down beer that was constantly brought to our table, we asked the selfless woman to dance with us. Walking over the the flashing lights, the music penetrated our ears. The singers kicked us off with some slow, Cambodian-style song. Men, women, and children all gathered around to dance with us, show us how they do it, or video us. Specifically, one old man videoed the whole 30 minutes of us dancing, giving us a thumbs up and a head nod when we nailed the hand motions.
I left that wedding in awe. Awe of the sacrifices the mother made to undeserving people like us. Awe of her intentionality in making us feel welcome. Awe of her selfless service in the midst of her daughters big day.
That night, as I was reminiscing over how encouraged I was by that woman, I couldn’t help but think about Jesus and His sacrificial love. God, in all His splendor, sees us. He sees all of us; our dirty, grimy selves and chooses us. He welcomes us into His presence with arms spread wide. He prepares a table for us and fills it with everything we need. He never leaves our side. He has fun with us. He shows us how the dance and live like Him.
Jesus revealed another piece of Himself to me through the mother-of-the-bride at a wedding this month, and it was unforgettable.
