In honor of Flashback Friday, Here is a Story from Month 3 on the Race: Vietnam
Sometimes you go to a missionary meeting and the homeowner that you have just met shoves her cousin at you and instructs you to “make him believe”. And sometimes you are nervous and frankly, dumbfounded, but you do as you are told because on the World Race you are used to being put on the spot. Sometimes you have to share your testimony, sometimes you have to deliver a sermon, and sometimes you have to figure out how to communicate it to people who barely speak English. But above all you ALWAYS have to be ready to share Jesus and advance the Kingdom. Even if you don’t have any advance warning. Because the devil doesn’t hesitate to step in on your behalf.
So in the span of maybe 45 minutes (if I’m generous), my teammate Ashley and I shared the creation story, the concept of human vs. animal sacrifice with Abraham, and ultimately the greatest sacrifice of Jesus’s life as the greatest expression of love and only pathway to our salvation to a middle aged man named Dang. It was a lot to throw at him at once, but he soaked it all in smiled and said, “I like this idea of heaven”. And with this statement my heart was soaring. I was so excited!!! This was the first time I had shared the Gospel in such a direct manner, and Dang seemed to cheerfully, and with an open heart, absorb all of it. The Holy Spirit had definitely struck a chord in his heart, and we were delighted.
It was the beginning of the month and my team and I were determined to see Dang through to his salvation in a loving and encouraging way, so we invited him to attend our other ministries with us. He came to a few of the missionary meetings Sandy had in her house as we prayed together, sharing what God had done to bless our lives and the amazing ways we witnessed him working. When we led worship for the reformed drug addicts, he listened to the Bible stories we acted out and heard drug addicts tell their amazing testimonies of how God saved them and delivered them through the process of getting clean. He came to our Café ministry where we taught “English class” and participated in wonderful discussion about our extreme value as children of God. I would occasionally check in with Dang, ask how he was feeling, and he would generally reply with, “Happy, I am having fun!” This always made me so glad to have him with us, to have him sharing in the joy of our family in Christ.
But the joy slowly began to become tainted. As the month neared its end, Dang’s cousin and our translator Mrs. Mai felt the looming inevitability of our leaving, and feared that with the loss of our relationship Dang would also lose his connection to Christ. They would constantly ask if he had accepted Christ yet, and were anxious for him to do so- but to a fault that created an environment of tension and pressure. This pressure mounted to a climax as Mai announced at the end of a drug addicts worship meeting that if anyone wanted to accept Christ they should pray a prayer with her. (He was the only one in the room who had not yet accepted Christ, so it was obvious who this question was directed toward.) I asked Dang if it was something he wanted to do, and he answered that he wasn’t ready. That was fine, I told him calmly- Jesus is patient. But Mai continued to ask, staring at him, and then eventually called him out in front of everyone. I tried to inconspicuously sneak up and tell her from behind that he was not ready, but she would not listen and insisted on having him pray a prayer inviting Jesus into his life. I watched as with hesitancy and reluctance Dang repeated the words she was having him recite- void, and lifeless. With each word, my heart sank.
After the prayer Dang sank back into his seat in the circle next to me. I immediately asked him how he felt, and he responded, “I feel sad and guilty”. Instantly I was filled with heart-broken anger. The love of Christ is something so joyous, so beautiful, and I wanted to facilitate a way that Dang could come into and experience that with complete joy. Instead, Mai had pressured him into speaking his acceptance not out of a changed heart, and not out of a place of joy, but out of embarrassment of being put in the spotlight. Ashley and I had facilitated our relationship so carefully with him. We had been so intentional about creating a safe place where Dang could come into the Father’s arms in celebration and, in what felt like a blur of uncontrollable events, it was yanked out from under us. Sad and guilty were the last things I wanted Dang to feel when he came to Jesus. This was by no means the vision of the salvation story I had for him. It was not according to my plan, and that upset me beyond belief.
