Our van bumped along the thin dusty road, one line on a grid of rice paddy fields. As we entered the village there was a familiar air. The houses were not cinder block, but rather strong, wooden establishments built on stills standing five, six, eight feet off the ground. The little fences surrounding each property were not wood and barbed wire, but rather shoots of bamboo tied together with reeds. But the air was the same. The same air of homecoming I feel every time I enter the little Nicaraguan village of Bethel.
We were there to meet with the village chief and a mother whose 6 year old had been raped a week ago. Would her mother release her to receive healing care from this trauma at the safe house? . . . A crowd gathered to listen to what the foreign people had to say.
A different crowd gathered around me. Little bright-eyed faces swarmed our van as I stepped out. Some of the littlest ones hid behind the older kids, as they gathered around. Other more brave little souls would run up quickly, pushing their way through the crowd, make eye-contact and then scamper off as quickly as they came, laughing the whole way. They’d never seen a white person before.
I practiced what little Khmer I know before a game of tag ensued. Laughter burst through the air as we ran and played. It didn’t take long before my lungs were hurting and we gathered once again by the van. A Khmer friend asked the kids if they loved me. They all said. “yes, we love her.” I was then able to share with them in Khmer that I love them too and I came all the way from America because I love Cambodia and the people of Cambodia, and not only me, but Jesus. I love them and Jesus loves them. They had never heard the name of Jesus before and so my Khmer friend began sharing the gospel with them. Their little eyes got wide as they listened to the strange story, so contrary to anything they have ever heard before. I then began to tell them that God loves them and he hears them when they pray. And that they can pray to Jesus anywhere, in their home, as they are walking in the street, in a church. Lord Jesus is everywhere and he hears them and he loves them.
We continued to practice Khmer and soon they asked if I could sing. I told them I could a little bit and they wanted to hear an english song, so I explained to them that this song was about God and his love for us. Then I sang over them How He Loves Us. They thought it was beautiful and they wanted to learn an english song so I tried as best I could to teach them Jesus loves me and explained in Khmer the words of the simple song.
We had such a precious time. For that day, for that moment I saw the Kingdom at work, it was in the air. We all explored how the atmosphere of this village was just different; their care and respect for one another, their closeness, the order and cleanliness of their homes, the openness and love that flowed from each person that we met. God is already there and moving. I am excited to continue to work with that village, build relationships, and share the gospel.
The village people gathered and walked behind our van as we pulled out. All waving and smiling, laughing and folding their hands in the front of their faces they bowed their heads sending us off with a formal and friendly farewell.
We will be returning on Friday to bring the little one to the safe house. Pray for her complete and total healing from this trauma that she may be able to reintegrate into her village healthy, well, and whole.
