I feel the need to preface this blog. You should know that you will probably be a bit scatter-brained if you read on, because this is my current state. There will be much hopping about and absolutely no outlying theme. I don't know exactly how this will go (if I'm honest, I never know), but I have the urge to spill my thoughts and revelations as I eat strawberry Pop-Tarts in my sandy bunk at 1AM. It's the night before I leave Thailand and all of my things are strewn about…from freshly cleaned laundry to laptop and iPod cords to all of my magazines.
I have a slight obsession with magazines, particularly anything involving nature or the world. Surf magazines are incredible. I admit that I snag the mags from the seat pockets on planes. Qatar Airways has had some pretty great editions these past few months. Of course, National Geographic has always been my favorite read. I was thrilled to find that May's issue highlights Civil War battlefields…but that is in itself another story. When I get a new magazine, I do my very best to preserve the pages as long as humanly possible. I read it backward and forward, absorbing all I want to know. Eventually though, I crack and begin to tear it apart. I cut out the stunning photos and tape them into my journal, stick other snippets in my Bible, and give pictures to friends. It's like real-life Pinterest. This obscure passion is one of my favorite pastimes that has amplified on this trip. It's entertaining to discover wonders I would like to see with my own eyes and even more amusing to actually realize that I've now been to many of the featured magazine sights. While riding in the back of a pick-up today, I found myself ingrained in my new magazine. Suddenly I thought to myself, "Why am I not looking at the setting sun behind the palm leaves and the Thai people on motor scooters?" "Be here Marissa, be here…"
I spent most of this afternoon at Nai Han Beach in Phuket. I spent some time in the ocean, and I must say that I felt pretty accomplished. The waves in that remarkably sapphire water were the largest that I ever recall swimming in. It was frighteningly thrilling.
I love the idea of frighteningly thrilling. The waves never ceased. They kept coming. It never got old. It was like God on a smaller scale. He is constant, yet never ceases to capture my amazement. I dove under “big kahunas” and swam past where the waves were breaking to find some serenity. I took my eyes off the shore and turned around to face the West, looking out into the sea. I floated out there like a buoy for quite a while, just gazing. I walked back up onto the sand more astounded at the ocean, more overwhelmed by the Creator than when I first waded out into the breakers. I can’t fathom that only a mere one percent of Thai people are Christian. Jesus alters my thinking with His creation. I can only hope that the same will happen for the Thai people and Western tourists surrounding.
I also sat on a massive boulder yesterday. In Colorado, I used to drive to Garden of the Gods Park at least a few times per week just to sit on my favorite rock and read, sleep, and bask in His greatness. The trail guides in their jeans and cowboy hats, leading an assembly line of tourists began to recognize me. I miss that rock, perfectly shaded with such a spectacular view of the Rocky Mountain foothills. Today’s rock was better.
Camped out on the rocks to the left
I spotted a guy with his two young daughters out in the surf. He had one of his little girls linked onto each arm. They clung to him as they ducked under each coming wave. My dad used to take me out when I was a kid too. I thought he was invincible. In my mind, no wave or shark could harm me.
There was a dark, skinny islander wearing board shorts, probably old enough to be my grandfather chilling a few boulders over. He was the only one up there with me. He was carving something and smoking something else (not anything I recognized. I wondered if he was a sea gypsy.
It was peaceful up there and I soaked in the moments. I intended to journal, but my pen stopped working. That must have been a gift from the Lord because it was more rewarding to simply stare into the distance, Phil Wickham’s Canons resounding in my ears.
I reflected upon the weeks here in Phuket. It's been easy to gravitate toward thoughts of wasted time. The ministry has been intense and has seemed fruitless most times. The images of all the bar girls I've met flash through my memory. But I must trust that I've done what I've been called here to do. In His time, the harvest will be reaped. It's a tough concept, but it's the only conclusion that I can fathom.
I've recently heard today's slave trade paralleled to the 19th century slave trade. They are similar in many aspects. However, today's is much larger and is growing at an increasingly rapid rate. Roundabout 1800, the Presbyterian Church in America passed a resolution declaring, "…it is manifestly the duty of all Christians who enjoy the light of the present day,…to correct the errors of former times, and as speedily as possible to efface this blot on our holy religion, and to obtain the complete abolition of slavery, throughout Christendom, and if possible throughout the world." I want to hold to that statement, "throughout the world." And I don't want to dwell on the phrase, "if possible." I believe that more can happen than we deem possible.Now I must pray vigorously for the red light district here. I hope to return one day. When I return, I hope to find Patong's bar poles vanished and it's hope restored. Maybe one day when I'm old in my rocker, I will read about the abolition of the sex trade in Thailand in National Geographic.
On a lighter note, I love this country. The Thai people are some of the most genuinely friendly folks I've come across on this journey. I am going to miss the laid back atmosphere and crystal blue waters here in Phuket.
Credit: Kaitlyn Allen
Tomorrow—> Phuket to Bangkok. Monday—> Bangkok to Siem Reap.
Ecstatic to see another wonder of the world!
What else is there to say? God is good. "All glory, honor, and power are His forever. Amen."
