“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech…”
As a journalism major in college, I saw my department’s First Amendment placard nearly everyday as I attended classes.
They were freedoms we studied and held dearly.
In church, I remember elders’ prayers of thanksgiving that we lived in a country free to worship and gather in His name.
As much as I was around the thankfulness and reverence for American freedoms, I didn’t realize the weight of them until Vietnam.
Being a “closed” country, foreigners are not allowed to proselytize to nationals. Therefore, being here for any sort of religious purpose is off-limits.
The“m” words (ministry, missions, missionary) are eliminated from our vocabulary, and sharing the Gospel with locals obviously requires more care and caution.
The hardest thing however, for me personally, has not been the legal restrictions. It’s been my hushed voice when I say the name of my Savior. It’s my whisper into my headphone mic when I’m FaceTiming my friends and family, trying to tell them what God has done. It’s the hum of my favorite worship songs as I sit on the beach. It’s the slight panic that floods me when I’ve said His name too loudly in a public place, looking around to make sure I didn’t draw attention to myself.
To clarify, I’m allowed to be Christian here. I’m allowed to say the name of Jesus and read my Bible in public. But it raises flags and draws attention if one isn’t careful.
However, despite the limitations, loving people doesn’t change. We make friends and build relationships like would in any other country. We strive to know them and what they believe before we spill our Gospel-sharing guts. We still desire and find ways to share the hope and love of Jesus.
Because no legality should ever keep what I know to be found in Jesus from finding the people here.
This not so little light of mine must shine through the darkness in this unreached region. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sin. (Colossians 1:13-14)
So this has been what I’ve fixed my eyes on this month – my prayer:
Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful. And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. (Colossians 4:2-6)
I’m leaving Vietnam with an urgency to share the Gospel. Now, more than ever, my yearning for other’s to know the hope found in Christ is pounding in my chest. This love is too important, too extravagant not to share. Even if it’s just a small taste, a simple conversation, I want them to at least get a glimpse of Jesus.
As I prepare to leave in a few days, please pray that the relationships I’ve built come to bear fruit. Additionally, pray for the Vietnamese believers here.
Even if I had not met one unbeliever, having had the opportunity to encourage and walk alongside my Vietnamese brothers and sisters would have been enough for me.
I come and go, but these fervent Christians counted the costs they would face and chose to follow Jesus, despite the jobs they would be disqualified from and the family’s they might forfeit.
Between the people, the culture, the food and my little job at Happy Heart Cafe, Da Nang, Vietnam will be dearly missed. This one is hard to leave…
