On our adventure days, I tend to get a little selfish. I think about the new foods I’m going to try, the weird fish pedicure I’m going to get, and the nifty and quirky souvenirs I’m going to buy. Adventure days are my days and my ministry switch flips off.
The Lord doesn’t turn off. Nor does He stop prodding us even though we think the day is going to all about us.
After I got my fish pedi—and calmed down from a mini panic attack from the over-stimulation on my feet. I’m super ticklish— we headed to a fair trade craft market in downtown Siem Reap. My favorite thing to buy as a souvenir is local art. Not the screen print stuff that all of the stalls are hawking—though I am guilty of buying it in the past. The true drawings and paintings where you can still see the primary sketches. This art captures the true heart of the country.
Needless to say, I was super pumped to sift through the sketches and canvases. I happened upon one stall where the art caught my eye. The artist had serious talent depicting Buddhist temples. I looked up to read the blurb written about the artist on the stall, but there wasn’t one there. Every other stall had one, but I didn’t really think much of it until now.
I thought about asking the woman at the counter about the artist after I was finished looking around. I already set my heart on the small, $7, graphite sketch but still decided to admire each one. As I flipped through the stack, I noticed one of the the drawings had a paragraph written by the artist on the back explaining part of his story. At the end was a phone number.
My heart stirred. Lord, no.
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I already decided on the other drawing.
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This one is more expensive. It’s $16.
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I don’t have enough money for this drawing. I have $10 in my pocket.
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I don’t want to talk to people. On the phone. That’s weird.
But the more I stood there, the more I knew I did want to speak to this man and hear his story. I sighed and asked the Lord, “You’re really going to make me spend this much on a phone number?” I could just feel the Lord giving me a knowing smile.
So I sighed again, mustered my courage, borrowed the money I needed from my teammate, Kenadi, and walked up to the counter.
I laid the painting on the glass counter and smiled at the woman who was checking me out. She looked at the drawing I was about to purchased and asked if I would like to know more about the artist. Yes! I would get to find out more about this man and the tragedies he experienced.
She gestured to my left and said that the artist was right standing right there.
What? No joke. He was standing two feet next to me. He smiled shyly as I introduced myself and complimented his work. We talked a while about his work and the fact that he donates the profits from his art to facilities that aid children with disabilities. His past ailments led him to develop disabilities himself and now he wants to aid those who have similarly developed disabilities through malnutrition, disease, and other harmful causes.
My heart filled with empathy; my parents are deaf and my father helps take care of a group of men with disabilities. I told him that I was a Christian and asked if it would be okay if I prayed for him and the programs he partners with. He said he was not a Christian but still accepted my offer. I also asked if I could message him using the phone number on the back of the drawing. Now, we’re Facebook friends and I can keep up with his journey!
Obedience to the Lord is scary because there feels like there are so many unknown results. I might not have ever got a call or text back from the number. My offer to pray could have been rejected. But within obedience there is a promise of something greater than we could have imagine. I wanted a drawing, I have a new friend.
