Can you feel the mountains tremble?


Maybe not, but I have been feeling them trembling as we have spent this past week at debrief in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and then kicking off month 3 here in Port Klang, Malaysia.


Every 2-3 months, AIM has graciously built in 3-4 day debriefs where the entire squad comes together, enjoys a shower and a bed, receives love and encouragement from our coaches (a.k.a. “squad parents”) and processes (both individually and in a group setting) the work that God has done in our hearts during the previous months. This was R Squad’s first debrief, and I have to say, it was AWESOME. After a month of squatty potties, bucket showers, 2 meals a day, and sleeping on the floor, my team and I went crazy for western toilets, hot showers, a bed, and abundant food. On top of that, it was an incredible time to reflect on the past two months, encourage one another in our growth, and plug into some awesome corporate worship and teaching.


The squad stayed at a guest house about a block away from Pub Street, the central tourist spot in Siem Reap where flocks of Europeans and Americans congregate around the Western restaurants, bars and Cambodia’s famous Night Market. It was an easy place to immerse yourself in the “tourist” mentality, especially after a month of challenging ministry. I found myself during the first few days of debrief just shutting my mind off, content with the attitude of “this is my vacation.” But as I continued in this attitude, so my dissatisfaction grew.



 

The fist rumble in my heart began as I stood beside my favorite dollar market cart one night, watching my banana pancake being prepared. I hadn’t been there 1 minute when the first street kid came up to me. The boy was about 7 years old, dressed in an oversized men’s shirt that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in months, a sling wrapped around his body holding a naked 4 month old little girl close to his chest. In his grubby hand was an empty baby bottle, which he preceeded to hold out to me, pleading in soft, accented English, “Milk for my sister…please…food for this baby.”

I had been around Siem Reap long enough to know just what this child was up to. I knew that as soon as I said “ok” to buying milk for the baby, the boy would lead me to a nearby store where he would grab the most expensive can of powdered milk off of the shelf. Then I would proceed to buy it for him, and he would proceed to take the milk to his “pimp” (of sorts), who would later return the can of milk to the store for a full cash refund. And the boy would return to the streets to find the next tourist who couldn’t look at a crying baby girl and refuse her food. It’s a profitable business on Pub Street, and the number of kids who are enslaved by it are countless.



 

It was in that moment, street kids coming up to me left and right, tugging on my shirt, hugging my waist, and asking for food that I realized that my ministry in Cambodia wasn’t quite done. I said no to buying the milk for the boy that night, but one of my squad mates bought him a banana pancake while I spent the next 20 minutes getting to know him and all of his street friends, loving on them and asking about their lives. The baby passed from arm to arm throughout the conversation, as each child took their turn panhandling. And in the time span of 30 minutes, I learned of these children’s orphan pasts and the life they lead having to beg on the streets every night so that their employer will give them a place to stay in exchange for the money they earn.

I left that evening with heavy heart, sensitive to the fact that I had somehow overlooked these children the two previous days I had stood at that same pancake cart. How easy it had been to see right through the “least of these” when they didn’t fit into my plan of relaxation.


The next morning, my squadmate Michael had a word from the Lord that our ministry was indeed not over yet in Cambodia. He urged us to pray for Divine appointments with people who needed to hear and feel the love of Christ, knowing there were some of us who were feeling compelled by the Spirit to walk throughout the rest of debrief with open eyes to see God-given opportunities of Kingdom releasal.



 

That evening, a group of us from R Squad went out to a nearby club, asking God for opportunities and for the right people to be put in our paths. We laughed, we danced, we enjoyed ourselves but at the same time remained open eyed to the turmoil in people’s hearts around us. The urge to have an attitude of prayer in my heart persisted throughout the evening, intensifying as we left the club at 1 a.m. to find a completely different Pub Street scene than what we had seen before. Prostitutes lined the streets, beckoning men to take them home, while street children attempted to sell bracelets and books, claiming that they needed money to go to school the next day. I’ll say it one more time just in case you didn’t catch it before…it was one o’clock in the morning. Children being forced to work at one o’clock in the morning.

Our hearts broke as we stepped out onto the street. Several of the girls with me split off to have conversations and pray with some of the prostitutes. I was approached immediately by a little girl named Ra who was six years old. She had a fiesty attitude and knew exactly what to say to make you feel bad for not buying her wares. Her English was limited to what she had been taught to parrot back to customers….”I need money for school. Please buy, very cheap. My mom and dad died. I go to school if you buy.” Beyond that, she had nothing to say, and whether she could understand or not the things I said next, I’ll never know. But I knelt down, held her soft, round face in my hands, looked into those eyes that have witnessed more than any six year old eyes should ever have to, and told her that I loved her, that she was beautiful, and that there was a God who loved her more than anyone else in this life ever could.


After that moment, Ra latched onto me like a leech. She pulled up a nearby plastic chair, motioned for me to sit down, crawled into my lap, leaned back on my chest, and sighed. We sat there for over an hour as I stroked her hair and spoke declarations of truth over her life…that she had a hope & a future, that she was loved, that she was beautiful, that the love of God would continue to seek her out for the rest of her life. I just prayed that I could pour into her, even for one short hour, the affection of a mother that she may have never experienced before.


We left the streets at 2 a.m. that morning, the sidewalks still buzzing with prostitues and children. And I left Cambodia the day after with a heavy heart, knowing that Ra would be out there the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that, until only God knows when.


Today I am in Malaysia with a team of 11 other women, because the men have split off this month for “man-istry.” And as we were standing in a pastors meeting at a small church in Port Klang this morning, we sang these words:


Did you feel the mountains tremble?
Did you hear the oceans roar?
When the people rose to sing of
Jesus Christ the risen one

Did you feel the people tremble?
Did you hear the singers roar?
When the lost began to sing of
Jesus Christ the risen one

Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
Songs that bring your hope
Songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice


The mountains are trembling, my friends, because I know that amidst all this suffering there is coming a day when the lost will begin to sing of Jesus Christ the Risen One. But what will that take?


Dancers who dance upon injustice.


I am learning that I am far from perfect when it comes to seeing the injustice and the need around me until I ask God to open my eyes to it, but it is my prayer that God will continue to change this within me as I walk throughout the rest of this year. God is moving through the nations right now, I can sense it, and it is my joy to be a part of a movement of a generation who seeks to meet this stirring head on. I want to dance upon injustice. I want to hold street children and tell them that they are loved. I want to feel the mountains tremble. I want the streets to resound with singing, where there was once hopelessness and despair.


Do you believe it is possible? Because I do.